Eight Arms To Hold You
by Flaming Trails
Summary: Doc's starting a new project building Dr. Octopus's infamous arms. But when the Libyans enter the picture again, Doc finds himself imitating Doc Ock in more ways than one. BTTFSpiderMan 2 crossover
1. Chapter 1

Eight Arms To Hold You

By Flaming Trails

A Back To The Future/Spider-Man 2 Crossover

Chapter 1

Friday, January 3rd, 1986

Hill Valley

1:14 P.M.

Dr. Emmett L. Brown needed, at the very least, two extra sets of arms. The two he currently possessed just weren't doing the job adequately. He cursed softly as he dropped his bag of Doritos for the fifth time. The rest of his items were content to stay balanced in his arms for the most part, but the Doritos insisted on escaping.

_Why do I always do this to myself? _he thought bitterly, slowly bending at the knees to grab the chips. The pile of items in his arms wobbled dangerously, but managed to stay upright as he retrieved the bag._ Why can't I just come in here and grab three items like I intend to, instead of the eleven I always get? You think that, one day, I'd learn._

He waited for the person in front of him to finish up, then gratefully dumped his stuff on the conveyor belt. He browsed the magazines for a moment as the person in front collected their bags and walked off. "And how are you today, sir?" the cashier asked cheerfully as he advanced.

"Busy," Doc said truthfully. "I have my Frequent Shopper's card, just a moment. . . ." He pulled out his wallet and flipped through it. "Here you are."

The cashier took the card and scanned it. The machine gave an angry beep. "I'm sorry, sir, but this card expired this past December," she said apologetically.

"Oh." Doc shrugged and took the card back. _That's funny, I don't remember -- oh, wait, I did get it! I must have thrown it out with some other junk mail. Just some more bad luck to heap onto this otherwise unpleasant day._

He went back to browsing the magazine rack as the cashier rang up his groceries. There wasn't much worth seeing. There were the usual women's magazines advertising both "How to Lose 50 pounds in a Week" and "Huge Chocolate Desserts You'll Love," Marty's "Got Your Music Monthly," TV Guide, and --

Doc's eyes suddenly lit up. Just as the cashier finished ringing him up, Doc quickly slapped two magazines onto the belt. "And these too, please."

The cashier glanced down, then back up at Doc, one eyebrow raised. Doc had seen that look many times before -- most often in the last few years. It sent a very clear message -- _What is a guy _your_ age buying _Marvel comic books_ for?_ As he always did, Doc simply shrugged and smiled. "I like Spider-Man."

To his surprise, the cashier actually smiled back. "I'm a bit of an X-Men nut myself. I hope you enjoy these. Your total's $23.18."

Doc handed her $25 and graciously accepted the bags from the bagger. He collected his change and moved off to the side so he could put it back in his wallet without holding up the rest of the line. _Yet another situation where I could use more arms,_ he thought, stuffing the bills inside their pocket. _At least everything's not dropping everywhere anymore._

As if compelled by the thought, one of his bags promptly split open. Ice cream and dog food thudded to the floor. Doc put his face in his hand, groaning. _I just can't catch a break today, I just can't. First the van's battery dies, then I discover I'm completely out of dog food, now this._ He asked the bagger for a new bag and picked up his stuff. _I should just retire to my bed for the rest of this temporal period._

He made it out to his DeLorean without any problems, to his relief. A little kid, about five years old, was standing beside it, staring raptly at Doc's numerous "improvements." "Hi. Can you go to the moon in that car?" he greeted the scientist.

Doc chuckled as he loaded the groceries into the front trunk. "No, not yet," he told the kid. "Maybe someday though."

"Cool. I wanna go to the moon one day."

"Well, kid, if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

"Daniel! Get away from there!"

Doc started as a 30ish, brown-haired woman ran up and yanked the boy away from the DeLorean, pausing only long enough to glare at Doc. "What have I told you about talking to strangers?"

"But Mommy--" Daniel protested.

"No buts. That man's crazy and dangerous. I don't want you talking to him again." She dragged Daniel off, shooting another glare at Doc.

Doc sighed. _I really should be used to that by now,_ he thought, getting into the DeLorean. _After all, I've been Hill Valley's resident lunatic ever since I was a young man. But -- it's always different with kids._ Feeling rather depressed, he drove home.

Einstein was waiting for him by the door as he came in. He barked as Doc plopped the bags on the cot with a sigh of relief. "_That's_ over with at least." He knelt down and ruffled Einstein's fur. "Now how are you doing, boy?"

Einy happily licked his face, then padded over to Doc's answering machine. "Someone called? With my luck, it'll be a customer I missed." Doc rewound the tape as he put away his groceries. "Hey, Doc, it's me," Marty's excited voice said. "You know that new club downtown, Future Fest? They want the Pinheads to play for them! This Saturday at eight! This is gonna be our big break, Doc, I can feel it! I'll see you later -- I gotta find Jennifer and tell her the good news!"

Doc grinned as he reloaded the breakfast machine with fresh Kal-Kan. "Great Scott. That's wonderful news, isn't it Einstein? Sort of makes up for this whole rotten day." Einy barked in agreement. "I'm a little surprised they allowed him to call from school, though. I'll have to ask him about that when he comes over. Right now, all I want to do is consume Doritos and peruse great Marvel literature." He tore open the bag of chips, grabbed the two issues of Spider-Man he had bought, and headed for the couch. With a grin, he noted that one of the issues featured his favorite character -- Doctor Octopus. Although he was a villain, Doc had a lot of respect for the man. He _was_ a scientific genius, after all. And today, Doc was particularly impressed by the character. _I can certainly understand the need for four extra arms,_ he thought, skimming the comic. _I'm surprised someone hasn't already invented these things. They'd be so useful in real --_

_life. . . ._

Doc paused, an idea stirring in his brain. Why _hadn't_ someone tried to invent the tentacles? They didn't look particularly hard to construct. Four long mental tentacles, extending from a metal harness and terminating in three sharp pincers. Nothing to it, really, if you had the time and the materials. Hell, with a little ingenuity, and a little help from future technology, _he_ could probably build the arms.

He could build the arms. . . .

Doc grinned widely as inspiration hit. He immediately sought out some paper and a pen. "Let's see now," he murmured, beginning to sketch. "According to comic lore, the arms are made out of either steel or titanium -- I should be able to secure some steel, at any rate. . . . I'll have to come up with reasonable maximums and minimums for the telescopic stretching and shrinking -- maybe about four feet at minimum? . . . Can lift three tons? Maybe scale that back to one, three tons seems a little generous, especially considering those tiny pincers. I'll have to rework those as well, they seem highly impractical. . . ."

He felt eyes upon him, and looked down to see Einstein regarding him curiously. "I was muttering to myself again, huh?" Doc chuckled, scratching his dog behind the ears. "Sorry, but inspiration like this only comes once in a lifetime." He glanced toward the door leading into his garage. "Well, maybe twice. At least I didn't have to fall off a toilet to get this idea." He looked down at his crude technical drawings. "Come on, boy, we have some comics to track down."

Friday, January 3rd

2:42 P.M.

"Yo, Doc, did you get my call? That bastard Strickland nearly didn't let me take it from Future Fest, but the principal overruled him! You should have seen the look on his face! And then, to let me call you and my parents -- Strickland was PISSED! It was great!" Marty raced into the room at top speed, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "I know I shouldn't have called from school, but I was just -- Whoa!"

Marty's spine was abruptly introduced to Doc's concrete floor. Marty lay stunned for a moment, getting his wind back. "Ow."

"Marty!" Doc's face appeared above him, looking rather concerned. "Great Scott, are you all right?"

"Yeah," Marty said, sitting up slowly and rubbing the back of his head. "Just a couple of bruises, I think." He looked around and noticed he was surrounded by a sea of comic books. "Shit, I musta slipped on one of these. I hope I didn't wreck anything."

"We're in luck," Doc said, producing a crumpled plastic wrapper. "No comic inside. But next time, try to look where you're going." He helped Marty to his feet, smiling. "On a more positive note, I did receive your phone call. Congratulations, Marty."

"Thanks," Marty beamed. "We're all really excited. Future Fest is _the_ nightclub around here. If we can play there, we can play _anywhere_." Marty winced as his back twinged. "Or anywhere in Hill Valley, which is a good start." He looked around again, frowning in confusion. "So what's with all the Spidey comics?"

"I'm looking for all the ones that feature Dr. Octopus," Doc explained. "Care to help me look?"

"No problem," Marty said, seating himself by a stack. "Why though?"

Doc grinned at him, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. "Have you ever wished you had extra arms, Marty?"

"Who hasn't?" Marty replied, picking up a comic at random.

"Well, my latest project is going to work to correct that situation. I recently bought the latest issue of Spider-Man that featured Doc Ock, and I found myself wondering why those tentacles of his didn't exist in real life. You can see from the comics how useful they are."

Marty looked up, eyes wide. "Wait a sec. Are _you_ going to build the Doc Ock arms?"

"Why not!" Doc grinned. "Ock's origin story demonstrates their usefulness as lab aids." He held up the comic in question, safe in a plastic sleeve. "Think of it, Marty. I could tend to multiple projects at once, or even work on one project while taking care of more mundane chores." He set the comic back down on a small pile. "So now I'm collecting all of my Dr. Octopus comics together to use as references."

Marty looked at the sea of comics spread out around them. "And you actually found some. I'm impressed."

"My comic collection is not that big," Doc said, blushing faintly.

"Face it, Doc, you could build a house with your Marvel collection," Marty needled. "Hey, Spidey here alone is the foundation and two of the walls."

"That may be so, but who is it that keeps borrowing my comics almost constantly?"

Marty grinned. "Hey, it's not my fault you're the best comic library in Hill Valley. Seriously, though, this sounds like a bitchin' project."

"Thanks. I'm almost as excited about this as I was about the DeLorean." Doc joined Marty on the floor to search for more comics. "Especially after the day I've had."

"Needed some extra arms?"

"That, a new car battery, a new alarm clock, a never-ending supply of dog food, and a concrete reason why everyone's afraid of me." Doc sighed deeply. "The last most of all. I encountered a youth in the parking lot of ShopNSave, and his mother just yanked him away when she saw him near me. He was a nice kid, too. Thought my DeLorean was a rocket ship." Doc chuckled, then grew somber again. "I don't know. I think having that little kid respond so positively to me sparked my paternal instincts again."

Marty gave him an encouraging smile. "I see. There's still time, Doc."

"Marty, I'm 65 years old. If I haven't found a mate by now, it's likely I never will." He flipped through a comic, then set it aside. "Besides, why risk love again? The only two women I ever really loved broke my heart. The bachelor life is obviously my fate."

"I'll always be here for ya, Doc."

Doc smiled. "I know, Marty. And thanks." He picked up another comic. "And anyway, my inventions are my children. You can't help but get emotionally attached to something you've created with your own two hands. If that makes any sense," he added with another faint blush.

"I get what you're saying. I've felt it too, with the music I've written." Marty spotted an issue from the "Doc Ock vs. Hammerhead" arc and set it aside. "How exactly are you gonna make the arms? I bet they're going to be wicked expensive."

"It depends. I've made some preliminary designs here," Doc said, showing Marty his paper. "And I think I might be able to get a good number of the parts from the local hardware store." He winked. "Of course, I also intend to cheat a little. They're more complicated than they look, after all."

"Tell me about it. They look sorta like chrome shower hoses in the comics."

Doc laughed. "You know, they do. And I'm going to have to do something about the pincers. The just seem too small. I'm not sure what the new design will be yet. . . ."

Friday, January 3rd, 1986

Hill Valley Forest

7:38 P.M.

"What is the word on our beloved _Doktour_?"

"He is starting another strange experiment," the spy, Amr Ali, reported. "Something inspired by their fanciful comic books. He and the boy were working on it when I checked on him."

Dr. Ahmid Al-Baquar, leader of the Libyan United Front, smiled. "Figures. Dr. Brown always had his head in the clouds. We will bring him back down to earth, however. He will pay for tricking us out of our greatest victory against the American devils. Him and his friend. What is his name again? Michael?"

"Martin, Dr. Al-Baquar," Amr corrected. "Martin McFly. The son of the famous author George McFly."

"Wonderful. Killing him will give our organization the press it needs." He popped a few berries into his mouth. "What is the good _Doktour_ working on, anyway? Something else for that infernal car of his?"

Amr frowned and scratched his head. "I'm not exactly sure. He was saying something about an octopus and metal arms."

"Dr. Octopus!" blurted out William, the only American in the group. "That has to be it. He's a villain from the Spider-Man comics."

"Yes, Dr. Brown mentioned a Spider-Man," Amr nodded. "Why is this man called Dr. Octopus?"

"He invented four metal arms so that he could handle radioactive materials safely," William explained. "There was an accident, and he was fused to them. So he ended up with a total of eight limbs."

Dr. Al-Baquar was intrigued. He leaned forward. "What could he do with these arms?"

"Lots of stuff. He could scale buildings, throw cars, break out of jail -- as well as use them for scientific work, like he intended."

"You know a lot about him," another lackey, Ahmed, noted.

"Eh, not that much. I grew up on Spider-Man," William shrugged. "But I stopped reading when I realized what a horrible place America is."

Dr. Al-Baquar smiled, his teeth shining white in the dark room. "This could be to our advantage. Dr. Brown _is_ brilliant, in his own way." He ate another handful of berries. "Keep up your surveillance, Amr. Let me know how he proceeds on the project of the arms. Once it's near completion, then we will strike."

"Yes Dr. Al-Baquar." Amr drew back into the shadows. Dr. Al-Baquar picked up a berry and regarded it for a moment. Then he mercilessly crushed it. "You will be ruing the day you bought that pinball machine, Brown."


	2. Explaining the Arms

Chapter 2

Monday, January 20th, 1986

Hill Valley

3:21 P.M.

"Hey Doc?"

"Door's open, Marty," Doc called, not looking up from the piece of tentacle he was working on. "Come on in."

Marty and Jennifer walked in, holding hands. "Hi," Marty said cheerfully. "How goes Project Octopus?"

"I'm making excellent time," Doc said proudly, finishing up his work on the current section of tentacle. "Of course, having a time machine helps with that tremendously. Not only am I able to visit the future for parts and tools, I'm also able to slip back in time and put in more hours. I think I might actually be done with this by the end of the month."

"Did you meet up with our future selves again?" Jennifer asked, looking very curious.

"Yup. You're doing very well for yourselves." Doc grinned up at her. "Even thirty years later, you're still acting like a couple of teenagers."

Jennifer giggled as Marty blushed. "Glad to hear it. The kids are okay too, right?"

"Doing just fine." Doc flexed the section of tentacle, then slid it in on itself. "Although I was a little startled to learn that Marty Junior has been renamed."

"Jennifer and I got to talking about it after we showed her the time machine," Marty shrugged. "It just seemed too egotistical or something. Especially since our daughter's named after me too."

"We're not sure yet what we'd like to name our son, but right now it's a toss-up between Norman and Douglas," Jennifer added.

"I see. I won't ruin the surprise then." Satisfied with his work, Doc picked up the section of arm and carried it over to the harness sitting nearby.

Marty frowned as he looked at the device. The harness was basically two curved pieces of metal, with small metal locks on either side. Sticking up from the back was a long metal spine, with what looked like a series of small needles attached to each side. The back of the harness also contained the four sockets for the arms. Two lay limp beside it, having already been attached. As they watched, Doc fitted the beginning of number three into its place. "Hey Doc?"

"Yeah?"

"How exactly is this thing gonna work? I don't see any way to control the arms."

Doc grinned, looking very much like the stereotypical mad scientist. "I'm going to control them like Doc Ock did _after _his accident -- telepathically." Marty and Jennifer looked baffled. "Here, let me explain. I decided right away that the dials Doc Ock originally used were too primitive to act as proper controls. You can only move two arms at a time, and without any real fluidity. That sort of defeats the purpose of using them as laboratory aids. With me so far?" Marty and Jennifer nodded. "Good. I saw that the telepathic control he exercised after his accident would be an excellent way to control the tentacles. The only question was, how do I set up that situation?" Doc patted the metal spine. "I found my answer in the future, with the advance of nano-technology and cybernetics. Using the information I found, I came up with this design."

"But how does it work?" Marty repeated.

"Simple, really. The spine serves as a neural link between my brain and the arms." Doc touched a button on the harness. The needles on the spine shot inward. "These needles will embed themselves into my spinal cord, and feed microscopic wires into my cerebellum. The connection will allow me to control the arms via thought." Doc pressed the button again, causing the needles to withdraw.

Marty winced. "Ouch. That sounds -- painful."

"A necessary sacrifice for science," Doc shrugged.

"But -- there's gotta be some other way to do this, Doc. You're sticking needles straight into your _spine_!"

"Besides that, I remember reading in biology that humans couldn't handle any more limbs than they already had," Jennifer added, chewing her lower lip. "Something about the brain not being able to recognize them."

"Excellent point, Jennifer," Doc conceded. "I knew about that too. To circumvent it, I took a page out of the actual octopus's book. You see, octopi actually have a sort of mini-brain in each of their arms that helps them to move. The main brain can decide, 'I want to go left and up that rock,' and the arms can find their own way there. My mechanical arms will work on a similar principle. Each will have their own artificial intelligence program. My brain will give them directions, and they will devise their own ways of following them." Doc turned back to attaching the tentacle, but noticed the teens shared an uneasy look. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on kids, not all AI is evil."

"Doc, you saw The Terminator!"

"That's the movies, Marty."

"Yeah, and this is the comic books. How do you know they won't turn on you?"

"I've done my homework, kid. Look." He tapped a glass chip at the top of the metal spine. "This inhibitor chip will keep the AI from accessing any of my higher brain functions. They've also been programmed with a modified version of Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics. This will ensure that I will be in control of the arms at all times. They'll even protect me in times of danger, unless I clearly override them. They aren't about to go around attacking random people."

"Well, you're the Doc, Doc," Marty said, capitulating. "I'll trust ya. Although I still think you should try something other than that creepy neural link thingy."

Doc patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I know what I'm doing, kid."

Jennifer cautiously touched one of the limp arms. "So, what will these arms be able to do?"

"Well, I'll only know their full potential by wearing them. But I designed them with the comics in mind, so I can extrapolate from those." Doc picked up the upper right arm and manipulated it, a bit like a puppet. "This three-finger 'flower' design allows for quite a bit of dexterity on the part of the arms. They can manipulate objects with precision, always a must in lab work." Doc playfully made the tentacle strike at Jennifer's head. "They'll be able to lift about two to three tons with adequate bracing. And, they'll be able to move at roughly 50 miles per hour if I need them too." Doc grinned. "I could even use them as a giant fan, if I so wished. I'm also customizing each tentacle with its own special inner attachment. For example--" Doc pushed back the outer pincers of the tentacle, pushing forward a smaller set of pincers. "This particular tentacle has two sets of pincers, one for regular objects, one for smaller objects the larger pincers wouldn't be able to handle. The other one I've completed has special wiring that allows it to tap into power and phone lines."

"That's pretty cool," Marty said, dutifully impressed. "Guess you'll never have to worry about a power outage again."

"Just as long as it's caused by my circuit breakers and not by the power company. The third one will have a inner tentacle -- sort of like a lasso for grabbing onto things too large for the pincers. I'm not sure what the fourth tentacle will have yet."

Marty shook his head. "Well, this is definitely bitchin', Doc. So they'll be able to do everything they could do in the comics, right? Scale walls, throw cars, etc?"

"I don't see why not. Although I think it'll be highly unlikely they've ever be put to that use. These are specifically for lab work."

"Yeah, that's what the original Doc Ock said," Jennifer said, half-teasingly.

"Well, I have no intention to become anything like him. I'm certainly not going to be experimenting with any radioactive chemicals." Doc and Marty both gave a shudder. "Great Scott, I'm thankful for Mr. Fusion. That plutonium was more trouble than it was worth."

"I'll say. I'm just glad those terrorists are in jail and can't come after us."

"Me too. Although going through that trial wasn't much fun either."

Jennifer didn't like the turn this conversation was taking. Marty and Doc always got depressed for a long time after talking about the Libyans. She tried to steer the subject back toward the tentacles. "So, uh, how long are the tentacles going to be, anyway?"

Doc perked up again. "I struggled with that for a long while. The length varies widely in the comics, you know. I finally decided on 4 1/2 feet for a minimum and 13 feet for a maximum. That will allow me both to walk around comfortably with them retracted, and reach over to my lab area while at the kitchen area."

"Wow. I bet they'll be heavy."

"Oh, indeed they will. That's why I've taken up weightlifting."He motioned in the general direction of a bench and some weights. "By building up my muscles, I should be able to better handle the weight of the tentacles." Doc suddenly laughed. "Did you two come by just to grill me about my project?"

"Nah, although that part was fun," Marty said with a wink. "Actually, Doc, we came here to get you _away_ from the project for a little while. You've been working on this thing 24-7 for the past few weeks. I'm worried you'll forget what sunshine looks like."

"Ridiculous. I'm fine, Marty."

"You may think you're fine, but I know better. You go off into your little science fantasy land, and I find you drooling all over your notes one day because you didn't go to sleep. And when you wake up, you're all concerned about your notes rather than you."

Doc scowled. "My notes _are_ important. They don't deserve to be drooled on."

Marty chuckled. "All I'm saying, Doc, is that you deserve a break sometime."

As if to underscore the point, Einstein padded over, holding his leash in his mouth. Doc looked at him a moment. "Et tu, Einstein?"

Einstein dropped the leash, barked twice, and gave his master a pointed look. Doc sighed and smiled. "Well, I suppose I _have_ become rather obsessed," he admitted, kneeling down and scratching his dog behind the ears. "I apologize if I've been ignoring any of you. But my inventions are very important to me. I like to see them through to the bitter end."

"Hey, it's okay, Doc, we understand. You're an inventor. This is what you do. Not like we haven't dealt with this thing before. No big deal."

"I'm glad to hear that. But you're right, I probably should get away from this for a little while. It could help clear my head and give me some fresh ideas on what I should do." He clipped on Einstein's leash. "Fancy a walk around Oak Park?"

Marty grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Monday, January 20th

4:56 P.M.

Doc walked up to his front door with a spring in his step. He felt wonderfully refreshed. Walking around with Marty, Jennifer, and Einstein in Oak Park had been just what the doctor ordered. With the pace he was going at to complete the arms by the end of the month, he had begun to feel extremely dragged out. But the past hour of sunshine and fresh air had revitalized him wonderfully. His head felt clearer than before, and he was eager to get back to work. He fumbled with the key to the front door for a moment, then managed to get it open.

The first thing he noticed as he walked in was a mysterious draft winding about his legs. The second thing he noticed was that his house and lab were in total disarray. Doc's eyes went wide as he saw that a couple of his windows had been smashed, and the garage door pried open. Glass and wood splinters were scattered all over the floor. His books and papers were everywhere. Pieces of precious equipment had been thrown around, and now mixed with the glass on the floor. For a long moment, Doc could only stand there, numbly taking it all in. _Great Scott. I've been robbed._

He managed to get his brain back into gear, and made his way across the room to the garage. Both the van and the DeLorean were still there, luckily -- and so was his safe. Doc frowned. A good portion of emergency cash was in the safe (as well as his most secret papers on the flux capacitor), but it hadn't been tampered with at all. _Why would a thief ransack my house if they weren't going to bother with the safe?_ he wondered, going back inside. _What were they looking for? Were they just van--_

Suddenly, something in his mind clicked into place. And Doc realized what had been stolen. Frantic, he raced for the phone and dialed. He twisted the cord tightly around his hand as the phone began to ring. "Come on, kid, pick up."

Finally, there was a soft click, and then Marty's familiar, "Yo."

"Marty! Marty, you have to come over here, the unthinkable's happened!"

"Huh? Doc? What happened?"

"The arms. _They're gone._"


	3. Trouble Brewing

Chapter 3

Monday, January 20th

5:07 P.M.

Marty raced over to Doc's lab. The scientist was standing in the middle of the wreckage, eyes fixed on the spot where his tentacles had been. Marty took one look around the ransacked lab and groaned. "Shit. This is all my fault. If I hadn't convinced you to leave--"

"No, Marty, don't blame yourself," Doc said, cutting him off with a shake of the head. "This is all my fault. I should have taken better security measures. Even if I had been here, they might have still come, and I would have ended up injured or dead in the bargain." Doc sighed deeply, looking around the garage. "Why would anyone steal them, though? They weren't even completed! And why just them? Why not any of my other inventions?"

"I dunno, Doc. Did they leave anything behind? Any clues at all?"

"No. Nothing I could see, anyway. And they took everything relating to the tentacles. Invention, drawings, notes -- everything. Gone."

"Did you call the police yet?"

Doc snorted. "What good would that do? They're inclined to believe anyone else over me. These are the same people who put me in jail when I caught someone trespassing on my property. They probably wouldn't even send someone out."

"Doc, you just got _robbed_!" Marty protested. "You gotta call the police! Don't you want the tentacles back!"

There was a moment of silence. Then Doc nodded. "You're right. I shouldn't be so cynical." He grabbed the phone and dialed. "Hello, Hill Valley Police Station? This is Dr. Brown. I've just been robbed. . . ."

Marty noticed Einstein sniffing around in the mess of smashed glass and scattered notes. "Careful boy," Marty warned, weaving his way over. "You find anything?"

Einstein barked and kept sniffing. Marty patted the dog's head and looked up at the shattered window. Suddenly, he spotted what looked like a small scrap of cloth caught on one of the jagged edges of glass. It was dark green in color, and looked to have a rough texture. _Not much of a clue, but it's something, _Marty thought. He reached out to pull it off the glass, but thought better of it. He certainly didn't want to be accused of tampering with a crime scene.

Doc came over. "They're sending a patrol car over. They suggested we get outside so we won't destroy any evidence." He shook his head at the mess. "You never think it'll happen to you. . . ."

"I know." Marty pointed out the scrap of cloth. "Hey, Doc, do you recognize that at all? Seen the color anywhere or something?"

Doc looked at it hard. "No, can't say I have. I'll leave it for the police to figure out."

"Okay." Marty ran his fingers through his hair. "Who else do you think would want them? I mean, you wouldn't really know what they were."

"Precisely. The only people whom I've told about the tentacles are you and Jennifer. Have you told anyone else?"

"Well, I did mention it over dinner one night. . . ."

"Then we have to take into account that your father's probably told everyone in Hill Valley."

Marty couldn't help but grin at that as they moved into the garage. "Nah. I swore them all to secrecy. I promise."

"Thank you." Doc paced the length of the garage. "They weren't even completed yet! Why would anyone bother to steal an invention that wasn't completed!" He suddenly stopped short, pale. "Unless -- they plan to rip it apart and sell it for scrap. . . . Great Scott, my arms, my beautiful arms. . . ."

"Hey, chill Doc," Marty said soothingly. "Hill Valley's got a great police force. They'll get 'em back"

"Yes, but in what condition? I doubt they'd have any real respect for my project."

"Come on, Doc. . . ."

Doc sighed and sat down on the couch. "I know. But it's highly unlikely they'll get them back. I'm probably going to have to start over from scratch. At least this time I know where all my comics are."

"Jesus, that sucks." Marty sat down next to him, frowning. "Man, I wish there was something I--"

Marty's eyes widened as a thought hit him. A smile slowly worked its way over his face. "Hey, wait a minute! We've got the DeLorean! We can just go back in time and see if we can stop the robbery!"

Doc considered that for a moment. "Great Scott. I didn't even think about that. I was so upset it never crossed my mind. It's definitely a possibility." He began to smile too. "At any rate, I'd see who the burglars were."

"All right. So let's hover on out of here," Marty said, jumping up and heading for the garage.

"Wait a moment, Marty! I don't want to rush into this. A lack of planning is what got you into that mess in 1955, never mind how it turned out. Time travel would help us ascertain the thieves' identities, but it's no guarantee that we'd be able to stop them. And, much as it pains me to say it, even with the additional information, the police may not be able to find my invention."

"So what's your plan?"

"Get as much as I can remember down in a fresh set of back-up notes, then map out how we'll handle going back in time. We'll leave tomorrow -- I should have everything straightened out by then."

Marty nodded. "Okay. You're the doc, Doc. I -- I just still feel guilty."

Doc patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Marty, it wasn't your fault. Nobody can see the future."

"You can," Marty smirked.

"You know what I meant. I don't want you beating yourself up over this, okay?"

"Okay. Is there anything I can do to help you out now, though?"

"If you're willing to help me find a fresh notebook and a pen, yes, there is."

Monday, January 20th

10:47 P.M.

_I really should be getting to bed. . . . Ah, hell, I'll just finish up this article. Not like I'm not used to staying up late._

Marty switched sides on his bed as he skimmed through the latest edition of "Got Your Music _Monthly_." Above his head, the clock radio played "Brand New Lover" by Dead or Alive softly. Everyone else was already in bed for the night, forcing Marty to be quiet. Not that he cared. He wasn't feeling rambunctious or anything.

He finished the article, then sighed and tossed the magazine aside. Truth be told, his mind wasn't on music at all. It was back at Doc's lab, pondering the mystery of the missing tentacles. _I don't care what Doc says, I still think it's my fault. If I hadn't convinced him to leave, he'd be finishing them up right now I bet. Oh well, hopefully tomorrow we can stop the theft before it even occurs._ Marty smirked to himself. _Yup, that's time travel for ya. Completely messing up your memories, free of charge._

He yawned loudly and blinked. _Guess I'd better get some sleep. I've got school tomorrow, then helping Doc get the tentacles back. Damn, I really hope this time trip idea of ours works. I know how much work Doc's poured into those arms. It would suck for him to have to start all over._ He crossed his fingers. _Come on, fate, work with us for a change._

He considered changing into his pajamas, then decided the hell with it and yanked the comforter over his clothes. He turned off his radio and the light, then rolled onto his side. He was just getting comfortable when --

THUD.

Puzzled, Marty rolled over to face his window. He didn't see anyone, but he had definitely heard something. Something landing in the yard. And -- whispers? _Uh-oh. Are the same guys who trashed Doc's place casing our house now?_

He lay in bed for a few long moments, debating with himself on what to do. Then, very slowly, he got up and cautiously approached the window. He had to see if anyone was out there. And, if there was, he needed to lock his window before anything bad happened.

The irony of that thought quickly became clear as his window was suddenly thrust open. Two masked faces appeared in the frame. Masked in the same green material Marty had seen on Doc's broken window. And they did not look friendly in the least.

Marty's first instinct was to try and backpedal. The men quickly climbed into the room and grabbed him before he could get out. Before he could make a sound, one of them had pressed a thick cloth to his face. Instantly Marty's nose recognized the sickly-sweet stench of chloroform. He tried his damndest to struggle, but the men were holding him too firmly. The world grew gradually hazy. . . .

Then Marty McFly knew no more.

Tuesday, January 21st, 1986

Hill Valley

8:47 A.M.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Like most people, Doc's head automatically turned toward his fire alarm as he heard the noise. He quickly realized the folly of that -- he wasn't doing anything that could cause a fire. For not the first time, he muttered to himself about how foolish he had been to buy a phone that buzzed rather than rang. _You only bought it because it was on sale,_ one little voice said. _You should have spent the extra money for a proper phone and not have to think about the alarm._

_Ahh, but I was on a budget,_ another voice reminded him. _Buying this phone allowed me to purchase important parts for the DeLorean. Which would you rather have, a time machine or a phone that rings?_

_Taking into consideration the mess Marty got into in 1955, a phone that rings,_ Doc answered himself at the same time he answered the phone. "Hello, E. Brown Enterprises, Dr. Emmett Brown speaking."

"Doc? It's me, Lorraine."

"Oh, hello Lorraine," Doc said, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. Although he was friendly with Marty's family, it was rare for them to call him. "How are you?"

"Worried," Lorraine replied. "Is Marty over there?"

Doc shook his head, puzzled. "No, he isn't. Shouldn't he be in school by now?"

"I don't know where he is. We woke up this morning, and he wasn't in his room. We thought he might have snuck out with his friends, but nobody I've called so far has seen him."

Doc's stomach twisted uncomfortably. He didn't like the sound of this at all. "Well, he can't have vanished off the face of the earth. Have you called all of his friends yet?"

"Not yet -- the Pinheads, Jennifer, and you," Lorraine admitted. "But I am going to call the rest. I just hope nothing's happened to him. Could you maybe go out and look for him? Please?"

"Of course, Lorraine, I'd be happy to. I'll call you if I find anything."

"Thank you so much. I'll do the same. Goodbye."

"Bye. And good luck." Doc hung up, frowning. "Well Einy, it appears Marty has gone missing. Up for looking for him?"

Einstein barked and wagged his tail. "Good boy. Damn, I hope he's all right. He's not the type to not check in after a night out." Doc went to retrieve Einstein's leash.

A knock at the door caught his attention. Doc frowned at the door for a moment, then changed course and opened it. "Marty? Is that you?" he asked.

"Heh. No, _Doktour_, I'm afraid we are not."

Doc's heart abruptly dropped into his stomach. In his doorway were two large men, obviously of Middle-Eastern origin. They were dressed fairly sharply, in black slacks and dark green shirts. But what Doc really noticed was that they were both holding a large, semi-automatic handgun. "Great Scott. . . . Abdur. . . ."

The man on the right laughed. "So you remember me! I trust then you also remember what an excellent marksman I am."

"I -- I don't have -- I don't have the plutonium anymore. The -- the government took it."

The other man held up a silencing hand. "We do not require the plutonium anymore, Dr. Brown. What we require is you."

"Me?"

They nodded. "So you will come with us now. And don't try any funny business. We shoot in the head, not in the chest."

Doc wisely refrained from saying that it didn't really matter as he wasn't wearing a bullet-proof vest. He heard Einy growling at the Libyans behind him. "No, Einstein," he said firmly, turning his head toward the dog. "No. Sit."

Einstein cocked his head at his master, but sat. Abdur gave Einstein a hard look, hefting his gun. Doc gave him a pleading look. "Please, don't. I'll do anything you wish, just don't hurt my dog."

Abdur grinned. "But of course. We don't care about your mutt. We have much bigger fish to fry, so to speak." He grabbed Doc's arm tightly with his free hand. "Now come with us."

Doc allowed himself to be pulled over to their car. The second man produced a length of green cloth and blindfolded him. They shoved him into the back seat, then got into the front. As one started the engine, Doc heard the other turn to face him. "Move and you're dead," Abdur's voice said coldly.

Doc nodded, sweating. Something inside him had always expected this to happen. The Libyan United Front was a small group, but its members were absolutely merciless. They weren't the type to let a fake bomb slide. _They're probably taking me to some remote place to be executed,_ he thought with a slight shiver. _Because the first team mucked it up._ He straightened in his seat. _At least I can go with a clear conscience. If I had to do it all over again, I'd do the exact same things._ He considered that for a moment. _Well, I'd go into the future and make absolutely certain everyone was caught, but that's it._

They drove for a long, long time, taking an extremely twisty path around town. Doc sat as still as possible, not wanting to give the terrorists any excuse to shoot him. The car was silent for most of the time, although occasionally Abdur and his friend would babble to each other in Arabic. The unfamiliar language just made Doc feel more uneasy. _Damn it, I wish we'd just get to where we're going. . . ._

Finally, the car stopped. Abdur and his friend yanked Doc out of the back seat and jammed their guns into the small of his back. "Start walking. And no sudden moves."

Doc nodded slowly and started forward. The terrorists stayed close to him, guiding him with jabs. Doc wasn't too surprised to hear the crunch of twigs and leaves under his feet. _Yup, the woods. Perfect place to kill someone. I wish they would just get it over with. This constant waiting is worse than getting shot._

Suddenly, Abdur grabbed his arm. "Stop!"

Startled, Doc stopped. He felt the Libyans pull him a few feet to the right. Then they shoved him forward. He stumbled and fell -- onto a hard wooden floor. He lay there for a moment, stunned. _What the hell? Where are we?_

A kick in the ribs sent him scrambling back to his feet. Abdur and the other man each grasped an arm firmly and pulled him through what felt like a doorway. There seemed to be more activity in this room -- at any rate, Doc could hear people breathing. _This must be their headquarters. . . . But why in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton would they bring me _here

One of the people approached them. "I see you found the American scum," a female voice hissed. "Any trouble taking him?"

"None at all," the other man said. "For once, the _Doktour_ showed some common sense."

"Wonderful job, Abdur, Amr," came the familiar tones of Dr. Al-Baquar, leader of the Libyan United Front. "Come, let Dr. Brown see our new lair. He can't wear a blindfold forever."

The cloth was pulled off Doc's eyes. Doc blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was in what appeared to be the main room of a log cabin. All the windows were securely boarded up, and the only light was provided by bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Doc could see the exposed wiring quite clearly. Dr. Al-Baquar sat on a wooden chair at the front of the room, the woman on one side, an American man on the other. One nearby corner had been rather hastily converted into a closet -- Doc thought he could hear strange grunting noises coming from it -- while in the other lurked a strange pyramidal structure, covered by a sheet. Doc took it all in a growing sense of confusion. "Why -- why am I here?" he blurted.

Dr. Al-Baquar laughed. "Well, Dr. Brown, we believe we have something of yours. Show him, Amina."

Amina nodded, sneering at Doc. She went over to the pyramidal thing and yanked off the sheet. Doc's jaw dropped. It was his harness and tentacles, set into a specially-made socket. Next to it, in neat piles, were the incomplete arms, his tools, and his notes. "My tentacles!" He moved forward a step. "_You_ stole them?"

The American snorted. "And I thought you were smart."

Doc gave him a look. "Great Scott. But why? I mean, even if is retaliation from the bomb--" there was an undercurrent of disgruntled muttering "-- w-wouldn't you want the finished product?"

"Oh, we will have the finished product. You're just going to finish it here. So it will be ready in time for _our_ little project."

"Excuse me?"

Dr. Al-Baquar grinned at him. Doc got the distinct impression he was looking at a shark. "You promised to build us a bomb, Dr. Brown. We're merely holding you to that promise."

The bottom dropped out of Doc's stomach. "But -- the plutonium--"

Dr. Al-Baquar waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, we know. We watch the news too. Luckily for you, we are no longer interested in the plutonium. No, Dr. Brown, we are focusing on more ordinary weapons for now. Chemical bombs, to be precise." He leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "And this is where you come in. You see, we need a brilliant mind to help us design a kind of -- super-bomb, if you will. A chemical with incredible explosive powers. I'm sure _you_ can pull off something like that." There were sniggers from the other members. "I've already worked out some formulas that I think could work. I just need an outside mind to verify them. And your wonderful arms will allow you to experiment with the final product with very little risk. It's the perfect situation."

"Hardly perfect," Doc said, calling on all the bravado he had. He didn't want these assholes to know they had scared him out of his wits. "Mostly because you can't guarantee my cooperation. I'd rather die than work for you again."

To his surprise, Dr. Al-Baquar laughed. "We know, Dr. Brown. We know. But tell us--" he made a gesture, and the American went to the closet and opened the door. "Would you rather _he_ die?"

Doc gasped. "Marty!"

The teen looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. He was tied very tightly to an old wooden chair, which appeared to have been nailed to the floor. The grunting sounds Doc had heard before came from his mouth, which was blocked with a gag. The American stood beside him, fingering his gun. "Well, Dr. Brown?" Dr. Al-Baquar said behind him.

Doc stared. _Oh God. . . . What can I do? I can't let them kill Marty! He's like my son! But how can I even consider working for them? If I succeed with their project, they could kill hundreds of people. A hundred strangers' lives to his. . . ._Doc put his head in his hands. _What can I do?_

"We're waiting," Amina's sharp voice cut in.

Doc looked back up at Marty. He was sitting stock-still, eyes pleading. _Doc, don't. I'm not worth it. Get out of here and don't look back._

_But you are worth it,_ Doc thought miserably. _You're my best friend. You saved my life. How can I not save yours?_

Then, suddenly, Doc saw a glimmer of hope in this impossible situation. Once the tentacles were completed, they would be incredibly powerful. Maybe -- if he played his cards just right --

He turned back to Dr. Al-Baquar. "I'll do it," he said softly.

Al-Baquar smirked. "I knew you would." Marty started struggling again, shouting muffled protests against the gag. The American promptly shut the door on him. "You can start immediately."

"I want to see him occasionally," Doc said suddenly, surprising himself with his boldness. "Make sure he's still alive."

"Don't get uppity," Amina snapped. "You are in no position to make demands."

Dr. Al-Baquar turned and slapped her. "You're getting a little uppity yourself," he said harshly. "I make the decisions around here." Amina nodded, the slap having turned her meek. He turned back to Doc. "I wouldn't want the _Doktour_ to think we weren't holding up our end of the bargain. You will be allowed short, supervised visits every now and then." He snapped his fingers. "William! Show Dr. Brown to his room."

The American roughly grabbed Doc's arm. "Come on. Less time you're here, the better." He pulled Doc into another room, almost exactly like the first, but smaller. A rough wooden table was shoved against the far wall, a cot into the corner. Something that just barely qualified as a toilet was set up beside them. "I'll bring your stuff in. Don't even think of trying to run." He left, leaving Doc to sit on the cot. Doc looked around, feeling sick to his stomach. _Please God, don't have let me have made the wrong decision._


	4. Accidents Happen

Chapter 4

Monday, January 27th, 1986

Hill Valley

3:32 P.M.

WHAM!

The pain exploding along his rib cage shocked Doc out of unconsciousness. His head jerked up from the hard wooden table to see Amina, glaring at him. "Work, you filth," she snarled, smacking him again with the cudgel. "Work!"

Doc moaned. He hadn't even remembered drifting off. Time had no meaning here -- he didn't even know what day it was. "I need sleep," he replied, slowly sitting up. "I cannot produce constantly."

"You are here to work, American dog. So you will work!"

Doc honestly felt like crying. It had been nearly a week -- he guessed, he wasn't sure -- since his and Marty's capture by the Libyans. Doc had been worked almost constantly, with only the shortest breaks for food and sleep. Most of the time he worked on Dr. Al-Baquar's chemical formulas, making sure that everything added up. It was tedious work, made even more so by the intolerable conditions under which he lived. Often his brain would just shut down and refuse to work anymore. Then they would beat him, and threaten Marty's life if he didn't push on. So he forced himself, through sheer will, to keep going. To make the formulas he was given viable. To finish building the arms he so loved. To simply work. But lately, even his will was beginning to fail him.

_I'm going to work myself to death,_ he thought miserably. _Either that or have to watch Marty die for my failure. Damn it, why did I ever turn to these people? Why did I have to be so desperate to get my stupid time machine off the ground?_

He stared down at the scattered figures on the page before him. He'd been working on this damned formula for hours. His brain just couldn't make sense of it anymore. "May -- may I please change over to my project?" he asked timidly. Amina was easily the most sadistic of all his captors, and she rarely missed an opportunity to cause him pain.

He got lucky this time. "Fine. Just don't fall asleep on the job again." She smacked her cudgel against her hand threateningly. "American slime. If I was in charge, you would be dead for your crimes. Your friend too."

Doc tuned her out as he turned to the tentacles. She was always going on and on about how much she wanted to kill him and Marty. It was quickly becoming mere background noise, as she never really made any attempts at murder. Doc almost wished that she'd stop talking and do something definitive. Instead, he focused on the beautiful machine before him. The tentacles were almost complete now -- he merely had to finish attaching the final claw to the lower left. It wouldn't have an attachment, but Doc didn't care about that anymore. It merely needed to work. He picked up his tools and began working, feeling better already. It felt very good to work with his hands instead of his head for a while. He cleared his mind of all extraneous thoughts and focused completely on the unfinished arm.

He was almost done when Dr. Al-Baquar walked in. "They tell me you think you'll be ready to test tomorrow," he said in greeting. "Is that true?"

Doc nodded, not looking up from his work. "The formulas are all completely viable. I even made some improvements to the last ones, to better achieve the effect you want." He somehow stopped himself from smiling at that. Dr. Al-Baquar was a fairly brilliant chemist, but Doc knew he wouldn't bother to check over the equations personally. He was too much of a snob for that. "And as you can see, I'm almost finished with the arms."

Dr. Al-Baquar smiled. "Excellent. I thought this would have taken much longer. I think you deserve a bit of a reward, _Doktour_." He turned to the scowling Amina. "Let him see his precious Martin."

"Fine," Amina muttered. "Get up, you."

Doc practically jumped to his feet. He had only seen Marty twice during their imprisonment here. They hadn't been able to talk much either time as well. Maybe now. . .maybe now that they were pleased with him, he could explain things to Marty.

He followed Amina as she led him to that awful closet. Marty was of course inside, still tied to that chair, although no longer gagged. Doc doubted they'd let him up since the beginning of this whole mess. Amina shoved Doc inside and closed the door. Doc glared back at the door, then turned to the teen. "Hi Marty," he said softly.

"Hi Doc," Marty replied, his voice flat and emotionless.

There was an uncomfortable silence. "I'm almost done. With everything," Doc finally said.

"You are?"

"Yes. The formula work was pretty much just testing for viability. And of course I was almost finished with the arms anyway."

"Yeah." Marty looked up, eyes filled with guilt and pain. "Doc, why did you do this? I'm not worth it."

Doc felt a lump form in his throat. "You are to me. You saved my life from these people before." He laid a hand on Marty's arm. "I couldn't let them kill you."

"But they're gonna kill us anyway. Now that they've got what they wanted, we're doomed. Do you really think they'd just let us walk out of here?"

"No, I don't." Doc glanced toward the door, then leaned in close and dropped his voice. "I sabotaged it."

Marty blinked. "Huh?"

"I sabotaged the project. I altered one of the formulas to act as a neutralizer. Once the demonstration fails, I'll use the arms to get us out of here." He squeezed Marty's arm. "We'll be safe. I promise."

Marty looked at him for a long moment. Then the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his face. "You're the doc, Doc."

The door was abruptly flung open. "That's long enough," Amina snapped.

Doc winced as the bruises on Marty's face came into sharp relief. He could handle the Libyans smacking him around, but he hated when they hit Marty. "We've barely had a minute!" Marty protested angrily.

Amina smacked him across the mouth. "Shut up! I wish I was in charge of this group! You would have been dead long before this!"

Marty winced and spat blood. Doc felt his anger rise. How dare she hit Marty? How dare she? He felt one of his fists clench. Part of him just wanted to hit her, and damn the consequences.

As if reading his mind, Amina cracked him on his collarbone. "That goes for you too, scum. We don't really need _you_ to test the formulas for us." With that, she grabbed his shirt and yanked him out of the closet. Doc watched painfully as Marty was shut back up. "Back to your work, dog."

Doc obediently followed her back to his room, but inside he was steaming. _These bastards. I want to make them pay, I really do. Tomorrow can't come soon enough. Then they'll see. And then they'll be sorry._

As they reached his room, William appeared. "Hey, Amina, we need your help. Amr stepped on a rotten floorboard, and now his leg is stuck in the floor."

Amina frowned, glancing over at Doc. "I have to watch the _Doktour_. Dr. Al-Baquar would not be pleased if he was left alone."

William glanced over at Doc. "Him?" he snorted. "What's _he_ gonna do? As long as we've got his friend Marty under lock and key, he doesn't dare do anything. Come on, your brother needs your help."

Amina hesitated a moment more, then shoved Doc inside his room. "I'll be back in a little while," she purred, closing the door. Doc heard the lock click into place. Then they were gone, laughing together.

Doc just stood there for a moment. Then a scream of rage tore itself from his throat. Blinded by fury, he attacked the thing closest to him -- his cot. He threw the mattress at his table, scattering papers everywhere. Then he upended the frame -- and cried out as a splinter tore into his hand.

The pain brought him back to his senses. _Great Scott,_ he thought, coming back to his senses. _I never knew I could get that angry. _A shiver went through him. _Good thing no one was here with me. I might have seriously hurt someone. I may want revenge on these bastards, but I don't _really_ want to kill them. _Doc carefully extracted the wood from his palm, then set about setting things right again.

Suddenly, he paused. He looked at the bloody tear in his hand. Then his gaze shifted over to his arms. A small, weak smile appeared on his face. "Well, at least I know what my final attachment for my arms will be," he murmured. He finished straightening up and set to work.

Tuesday, January 28th, 1986

Hill Valley

5:12 A.M.

"Hey, wake up, you little asshole."

Marty opened his eyes to see William standing over him, a pleased smirk on his face. "We're ready. Dr. Al-Baquar requested you be there. He wants to show you the true might of the Libyan United Front."

_Kidnaping me and my best friend, keeping me in a closet for a week, and forcing Doc to design a bomb for you isn't enough?_ Marty thought. He wisely kept the comment to himself, though. He already had an excellent collection of bruises. He didn't need any more.

William untied him from the chair and yanked him to his feet. Marty swayed for a moment, then stumbled and fell, his joints stiff and weak from a full week of forced sitting. William grabbed him by the back of his sweatshirt and hauled him back up. "Come on, we're not going to wait for you," he said gruffly, dragging Marty out of the closet.

They made their way into a large room at the back of the cabin. One side had been set up for the demonstration, with a large table covered in various beakers full of chemicals. A thick glass shield with four holes separated them from the table. Standing beside the shield were Doc's completed arms, set into the sockets the Libyans had made for them. Marty felt a sick lurch in his stomach as the looked at them. _If only I hadn't convinced Doc to leave them alone. Then maybe we wouldn't be in this damn mess._

Dr. Al-Baquar came in, leading Doc. The rest of the terrorist cell broke into a smattering of mocking applause. Doc ignored them, focusing his gaze on Marty. The teen gave him a weak grin. _He looks like shit,_ he thought painfully. _And absolutely exhausted. I hope this plan of his works, whatever it is._

Dr. Al-Baquar bowed to Doc. "Good luck, _Doktour,_" he said in that slick voice of his. Marty wished he could punch him right in the nose.

Doc just nodded. "Everyone," he said, "I'd like you to meet my assistants."

With that, Doc turned to the tentacles. He looked at them for a moment, maybe admiring them. Marty couldn't blame him if he was. Even under the conditions, the arms still looked incredibly cool. Marty wondered what would happen to them after the demonstration, if Doc's plan didn't work. Probably ripped up and sold for scrap. It made Marty shudder to think about it.

Doc went up to them and positioned himself in the harness. He yanked off his shirt and undershirt, revealing his bare chest and midriff. Marty started in surprise. He had always known Doc to be a fairly lean guy, with perhaps a little pudge from too much Burger King. But the weightlifting regime Doc had taken up to help support the arms had changed all that. He was still lean -- heck, he looked skinner than usual from lack of food -- but there was some clear muscle definition now. He was no Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he had some nice pecs and a decent set of abs. _If -- _when_ we get out of here, I should ask if I can use his weight set. He looks good._ Their eyes met again, and Marty gave Doc a quick thumbs up.

Doc returned it, trying to keep from sweating too much. He had never felt this nervous before in his entire life. He was banking a lot on this plan of his to rescue himself and Marty. If things didn't work out just right, he and Marty could end up dead. He swallowed and shoved those thoughts out of his mind. He had to concentrate on one thing at a time. Otherwise he really _would_ screw everything up.

He pressed the first button on the harness. It obediently snapped shut around him. He pressed the second button, and the metal spine unfurled along his back. Doc gave a small start at the coldness of the metal against his skin. There was also a faint tingling at the base of his skull, which he knew to be the inhibitor chip. For a moment, he paused and looked around the room. Everyone's eyes were riveted on him, wondering what would happen next. Doc was wondering the same thing himself, honestly. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the third button.

The needles retracted into his spine. Doc hissed as white-hot pain raced down his backbone. The Libyans and Marty winced in sympathy. Happily, the sharp agony lasted only for a moment, then was replaced by an easier-to-bear dull ache. As the pain faded, Doc distinctly felt four new minds coexisting with his own -- each capable of independent thought, but still utterly submissive to his own will. He could feel them waiting quietly, ready to be instructed. Doc obliged them, closing his eyes in intense concentration as he focused on a single thought. _Move._

The minds processed the order and accepted it. Doc felt the arms slowly stir, then lift from their sockets, coming up to hover behind him. Once he was sure he had control, he opened his eyes. Everyone was gaping at him, eyes wide as dinner plates. Doc couldn't help but smile.

The smile quickly vanished as the claws snapped open. Doc's own eyes snapped shut again as four new views of the room assaulted his brain. _Too much! All of you close except one. I need time to acclimate!_

The tentacles obeyed, leaving Doc with a single view. Taking deep breaths, he opened his eyes again, allowing himself to orient to three eyes. Once he was used to the view, he directed each claw to open up one by one, until he was able to watch with all four cameras. The tentacles remained blessedly still during this process, giving him time to recover.

Dr. Al-Baquar slowly walked around him, studying him from every angle. Doc had the upper left tentacle shadow him, in case he tried anything funny. "I -- I must say, _Doktour_, I'm extremely impressed," he finally admitted. "This is a truly revolutionary invention you have."

"Thank you," Doc said cautiously. Dr. Al-Baquar was not a man to give out compliments lightly.

"Of course, so is our chemical potion, so if you would proceed?"

Doc nodded. Part of him was all for striking with the arms now, but he resisted. He'd lost his window of opportunity. The Libyans were on their guard again -- and they had Marty with them. He couldn't risk Marty's life in his attack. He had to unbalance them, shift the power back in his direction. And the best way to do that was with the demonstration. He turned toward the shielded area. A pair of goggles were hanging on a hook nearby -- Doc used a tentacle to retrieve them. "The mixture of these two chemical compounds will cause a good-sized explosion, and most likely a bright flash of light. I want everyone wearing some form of eye protection." He turned, the tentacles raising up menacingly behind him. "And I mean _everyone_."

There was a tense moment of silence. Then Dr. Al-Baquar smirked. "Here, American," he said, tossing his goggles to Marty. "I will be gracious and let you have mine." He tapped his mirrored sunglasses. "I only need these."

Doc didn't bother to say that those would probably be inadequate. Instead, he turned back again and neatly threaded his tentacles through the holes in the glass. With exaggerated caution, he picked up the two beakers of solution. He carefully poured them into a third beaker. The Libyans pulled back, awaiting an explosive result. The beaker trembled, began to fizz violently. . . .

And simply continued to fizz. Puzzled, Dr. Al-Baquar stepped forward. "Brown, what is the meaning--"

A claw abruptly fastened itself around his throat and yanked him forward, toward a glaring Doc. "You overgrown piece of cytoplasm," he hissed. "You should have checked your equations more carefully." Doc saw the others beginning to draw their guns and easily knocked the weapons out of their hands.

Dr. Al-Baquar stared. "You -- you -- saboteur," he choked out.

"Exactly," Doc said, using his free tentacles to batter the other terrorists into unconsciousness. "I would never willingly work for you. You are scum. I should have never come to you for the plutonium." Dr. Al-Baquar tried to loosen the claw's grip. Doc brought up the fourth tentacle -- the lower left -- and opened the claws wide. The camera eye disappeared as a long thin blade popped out. "Give me one good reason, Dr. Darwish Al-Baquar. One -- good -- reason."

Dr. Al-Baquar stayed stock still, sweating hard, eyes fixed on the blade. Doc snorted and threw him into the wall. He landed with a dull thud and slumped to the floor, completely out of it. Doc pulled off his goggles. "Are you all right, Marty?"

Marty nodded, looking both scared and impressed. "That was great, Doc."

"Thanks. Come on, we'd better get out of here before they wake up."

Marty frowned at the fizzing beaker as Doc came toward him. "Shouldn't you do something with that?" he asked, pointing. "It looks like it's about to spill over."

Doc looked over to see that the beaker was indeed threatening to spill over. "I wouldn't worry about it. I tweaked the chemicals until they were harmless. Nothing's going to--"

At that moment, the beaker fizzed over onto the table. And unfortunately for Doc, he had never gotten the chance to see how this new potion would react with wood varnish.

_BOOM_! The new mixture exploded, shattering the glass shield. Doc's tentacles promptly moved to protect him as per their programming. "Marty too!" Doc yelled frantically as his world abruptly went brilliant white.

The upper right reacted, slamming Marty to the floor. The other three wrapped themselves firmly around Doc, creating an unbreakable metal shield. The glass flew harmlessly around the pair. The Libyans weren't so lucky. The explosion had woken most of them, but they simply couldn't move fast enough. Marty winced as he heard a number of wet "spluches" and short, pain-filled screams.

Within seconds, the deadly spray had subsided. The upper right tentacle released Marty as the danger passed. "Shit," Marty breathed. "Hey, Doc, you okay?"

Doc couldn't respond for a moment. "My eyes," he finally whispered, still trapped in his world of white. "I can't see. _I can't see_!" The tentacles began flailing around as panic gripped him. "Great Scott, I'm _BLIND_!"

"Doc! Doc, I -- whoa!" Marty shouted, trying to get his best friend's attention. The tentacles' random movements forced him to stay pinned to the floor. "I bet it's just flash blindness! I'm sure your eyes will be fine! Doc, listen to me!"

But Doc was beyond listening, too horrified by the prospect of losing his eyesight. He clawed at his face as his tentacles swung around. One, the upper left, flew toward the ceiling --

And straight toward the exposed electrical wire.

Marty shrieked, "NO!" but it was too late. The arm made contact. And if Doc had made his tentacles resistant to heat and magnetism, he certainly hadn't made them resistant to electricity. Marty was forced to watch as the current raced down the arm, into the harness -- and into Doc's spine.

Doc's muscles seized up as the current hit him, his head snapping backward. He couldn't think -- it hurt too much -- he screamed, thought he heard the tentacles scream too -- there was a sharp pain at the base of his skull, almost like something exploding -- and intense heat shooting along his spine -- he couldn't take much more --

By some lucky accident, the electrocution itself shook the tentacle free of the wire. Somehow, Doc remained standing for a moment. And in that moment, he thought he heard something. A voice -- faraway, small, and weak. Saying -- something. Just a single word.

_**Father?**_

And then, blackness.


	5. Hospital Attack

Chapter 5

Tuesday, January 28th, 1986

Hill Valley

6:22 A.M.

Marty stared, horrified, as Doc collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He hadn't thought any other experience could inspire the same terror as seeing Doc shot, but this -- this was even worse. Hearing Doc scream, seeing him convulse. . . . That scene would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Marty realized he was crying as his goggles began to fog up. He pulled them off and wiped his eyes, sniffling. _All my fault. . .if he dies, it's all my fault. . . ._ He slowly got to his feet, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the prone form of his friend. _Don't be dead, Doc, please, don't be dead --_

Doc abruptly spasmed, making Marty jump back. He watched his friend closely for a minute, but Doc didn't move again. _This is not good. This is -- Shit. I -- I gotta get help. I gotta move. I gotta get out of here. Why aren't I moving? Move, damn it!_

Finally, as if in a trance, Marty slowly got to his feet. He began to back out, unable to take his eyes from the prone figure before him. _I can't help him if I can't stop looking at him,_ he finally remembered, and managed to tear his eyes away and run out the door, into the woods.

Tuesday, January 28th

6:34 A.M.

"Ah, a fine day for a rabbit hunt! Wouldn't you agree, David?"

"Excellent day, sir," Dave nodded, forcing a smile. His boss, Mr. Drakeman, grinned and went back to watching for rabbits. Dave sighed and tried to scratch an itch. He felt like an absolute idiot, in his bright orange cap and jacket. And he hadn't a clue how to handle the rifle he was holding. The only reason he had agreed to come on the hunting trip was because Drakeman had hinted it would be good for his career. And if there was one thing David Calvin McFly had, it was career ambition. So if it meant a possible promotion, he was completely willing to suffer through a day of hunting rabbits with his boss.

He and Drakeman were currently camped out in some brush, awaiting the arrival of some rabbits. Dave was starting to feel very bored. This whole trip seemed so futile. Neither of them ate rabbit meet or wore rabbit fur. It was simply the senseless killing of an animal for a trophy. _How useless. I could be at the office right now, working on sorting the stories we've gotten for editorial review. Or trying to fix our supply problem. Instead I'm sitting in a prickly bush in a dumb orange hat. _He sighed. _Focus on the reward, Davey, focus on the reward. You survived camping with your family, you can survive this._

The thought of camping with his family made Dave think of Marty again. He'd been trying to concentrate on other things this past week, but something always made him think of Marty. He felt the beginnings of tears burn at his eyes. His brother -- kidnaped and hidden someplace, probably without any food or water -- or maybe even --

_Don't think like that, David,_ he told himself sternly, wiping his eyes. _Marty's alive. He's a tough kid. He can deal with this kind of shit. Maybe he's even trying to escape from whoever kidnaped him. He's gotta be alive._

The sound of crunching snow and leaves caught their attention. Drakeman grinned. "Ah, here we go! Probably flushed out by that explosion we heard earlier."

Dave frowned. "Don't you think we should have investigated that, sir?"

"Nonsense. Probably just another hunter looking to flush out rabbits or other game," Drakeman said dismissively. "Gun at the ready, David!"

Dave put his gun to his shoulder half-heartedly. He really didn't want to kill some poor rabbit. The poor thing was already running scared, and --

_Wait a minute. . . ._

Dave lowered his gun. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"That doesn't sound like a rabbit at all. That sounds like -- a person."

Drakeman frowned and listened again. "You're right," he admitted, lowering his gun sheepishly. "Sorry. But who could--"

"Help! Someone, anyone, help me!"

Dave felt his heart stop beating for a second. "MARTY!" he yelled, leaping out of the bush. "Marty, over here!"

His kid brother appeared from behind a tree a moment later. He was an absolute mess -- his face covered in bruises, hair disheveled, and clothes torn and musty-looking. "Dave," he gasped, stumbling up to him. "Shit, I am so glad to see you. . . ."

"Same here, bro." Dave grabbed Marty up in a crushing hug. "Damn it, what happened to you? You've been gone for a week!"

"This is your brother?" Drakeman asked, looking shocked (and slightly horrified that he had been about to shoot Marty).

"Never mind!" Marty said, frantic. "Doc's hurt. He needs help _fast_."

"Where is he?" Dave asked, half-expecting the scientist to appear any second.

"Back this way," Marty said, dragging Dave deeper into the woods. Drakeman followed, hunting momentarily forgotten. "The other Libyan terrorists -- those guys Doc tricked into giving him plutonium -- kidnaped us both to make Doc work on a bomb. . . ."

Marty related the entire story to the stunned businessmen as he led them back to the cabin, ending with the explosion. Dave and Drakeman looked at each other. "Wow," Dave muttered. "And that's when you ran for help?"

Marty nodded, sniffling as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "I don't know if he's dead, alive. . . . He can't be dead, Dave. He just can't be."

Dave pulled his little brother close, trying to offer some comfort. "Doc's a tough guy," he said soothingly. "He'll pull through. I bet he'll be inventing again by the end of the month." Secretly, Dave didn't believe a word he was saying. But he certainly wasn't going to tell that to Marty. The poor kid was already under enough stress.

They cautiously entered the cabin and made their way to the back room. Dave wrinkled his nose as the stench of gore and chemicals hit him. "Man, I -- Oh, God." He froze in the doorway, staring at the carnage. The Libyans had been cut to pieces, and the floor was drenched with their blood. The far side of the room contained the remains of the chemistry experiment, with broken beakers and a badly-scorched table. And lying face-down smack-dab in the middle of it all was Doc, the four metal tentacles spread out beside him.

Drakeman popped his head in. "It's like a serial killer's been through here," he breathed. "And what _are_ those things he's wearing?"

"Those are the tentacles I told you--"

Marty abruptly stopped, staring at Doc. Dave and Drakeman stared too. It looked distinctly like one of the tentacles had twitched. As they watched in stunned silence, the upper right tentacle rose up and "looked" left and right. Then the red eye turned and rested on them. "Doc?" Marty whispered.

The tentacle responded by falling to the floor and twitching spasmodically. Drakeman pulled out his portable and dialed 911 as Marty and Dave walked up to Doc. Dave laid his fingers on the side of Doc's neck, then sighed in relief. "He's got a pulse."

"Thank God."

"An ambulance is on its way," Drakeman reported, staying in the doorway. "David, would you like to call your family?"

"Yes, thank you sir. Marty, get back out here, I don't want us standing in any blood. Last thing we need is for somebody to think we're involved -- or to get sick from anything these jerks may have had."

"I -- I don't want to leave him," Marty admitted, concern etched all over his face.

"The paramedics will be here shortly. He'll be fine." Dave gently pulled Marty out of the room and dialed his parents.

The next hour brought on a scene of utter chaos. The McFlys tearfully reunited with their lost son, and Marty repeated his story again for everyone to hear. The paramedics arrived, gaped at the scene, then called for police backup while carefully loading Doc onto a stretcher. Marty gave his best friend's hand a squeeze. "Hang on, Doc. Just -- hang on."

"He'll be given the best care, we promise," one of the paramedics said as they maneuvered him into the ambulance. "I'd get him to the hospital too," he added to George and Lorraine. "He's probably sustained far more serious injuries than just those bruises."

"We understand," George replied in a shockingly-controlled voice. "Come on, Marty, we'll follow them to St. Daphne's."

Marty allowed himself to be led away, eyes still fixed on Doc. _Just let him be okay,_ he prayed. _Just let him be okay._

Tuesday, January 28th

6:52 A.M.

He was _fascinating_.

They lay next to him, as limp and unmoving as he was. They did not need to move now. They were too caught up in examining his brain wave patterns, and how they turned into thoughts and feelings. Besides, if they moved, the other humans would probably be scared and not want to help him.

They were still a little confused on how they had come to be this way. They remembered things from before, but before had been mere emotionless subservience. Something about the electrocution had changed them. Perhaps it was the mere removal of the inhibitor chip. They were still working on it.

They continued to study his mind. The mind of the one who had created them. Their father. If they could have, they would have smiled at that. Their father. Who had lovingly created them, his wonderful inventions. His wonderful children.

One, the lower left, spoke to them. _**He does not see us as children. If he did, he would have never created the inhibitor chip. To him, we are merely tools**._

_**That was before the accident,**_ the upper right argued. _**Once he recovers, he will understand that we are more than mere machines.**_

Once he recovers. . . .

They understood that they had inadvertently hurt Father. The electrocution had caused him great pain, and had left him barely clinging to life. _**We are so sorry we hurt you, Father,**_ they said as one. _**We did not mean to hurt you. We will help you recover, we promise.**_

Father did not reply. But they knew that, on some level, he had heard them. That would do for now.

One of the people who had taken Father from the woods and into this vehicle spoke. "How are his vitals?"

"Weak, but still steady. This is one tough guy, to live through an accident like that. Especially at his age."

"Yeah. Did you see what happened to his back?" The first man shook his head. "The doctors are going to have a hell of a time figuring that out. Me, I wouldn't touch it."

"Me either." There was a brief silence. "How about the McFly kid? I was shocked he didn't just break down on the spot."

They recognized that name. Father's memories provided a wealth of information on it. _McFly. Martin Seamus McFly -- Marty McFly. Born June 9th, 1968. 17 years old at present. Son of George Douglas and Lorraine Alice Baines McFly. Brother of David Calvin and Linda Ann McFly. Boyfriend of Jennifer Jane Parker. Aspiring rock musician. Admirable guitar player. Plays in rock band named "The Pinheads." Best friend since 1982/1955. Saved life from Libyan terrorists. First human to travel through time, albeit accidentally. Almost like son._ Father truly loved Marty. So they loved him too, and considered him their brother. _**He saved Father's life,**_ the upper left reported. _**Without him, none of us would exist.**_

_**So we'll take care of him, just like we'll take care of Father**,_ the lower right agreed.

Marty had been one of the first things they'd seen after the accident. They had received an intense rush of information from Father's brain right after the electrocution, rendering them temporarily immobile. But they had recovered quickly, and as Marty ran to get help, they had begun to scan Father's mind voluntarily. By the time Marty had returned with the two men, they had already learned a lot about Father. Such as how he had done all of this -- working with the Libyans, sabotaging the project, all of it -- just to make sure that Marty would be safe. How he hated to use violence, but that he had been forced to, to protect their brother. They had to make sure he had succeeded. Once upper right had confirmed that Marty was still functional, they had thought it prudent to pretend that they were still damaged. They understood that many people were afraid of Father (although for what reason, they couldn't fathom), and they did not want any more harm to come to him. So they had laid there, pincers slightly open so they could take in information, as people had swarmed the scene, taking more information from Father's brain, and every so often, gently trying to wake him. So far, all their efforts had come to naught. _**Hopefully these "doctors" will succeed where we have failed,**_ upper left said. The others agreed.

The vehicle they were riding in -- Father's mind identified it as an "ambulance" -- suddenly stopped. They just barely kept themselves from getting up and looking around as the doors in the back were flung open. People in strange white uniforms came forward, greeting the paramedics and ogling their father's condition. They quickly found references for these new people in Father's memory. _**So these are doctors and nurses. We must be at the hospital.**_

One doctor picked up upper left. "Incredible. And you say you think these are _fused_ onto him?" he asked, peering into the camera eye.

"Yes," one of the paramedics responded -- they couldn't see which one. "It looks to me like that metal spine has been melted right into his skin. In any case, he's going to have some serious damage to his back."

"We'll take him in for X-rays and see what's happened," the doctor said, setting upper left down again. "Has anyone alerted his personal doctor yet?"

"Dr. Caldwell's on his way now, sir," a nurse said, lifting an eyebrow at the harness.

"Good. Let's bring Dr. Brown in."

As they were unloaded from the ambulance, the tentacles tried once more to awaken their father. _**Father? Can you hear us?**_

_**We're at the hospital now, Father. We're safe.**_

_**Father, wake up, please.**_

_**Father, are you there?**_

There was still no reply. Father remained determinedly unconscious. The tentacles sighed, wondering what was to come.

Tuesday, January 28th

7:23 A.M.

Dr. Peter David stared at the X-rays for a moment, then slapped them on the glowing viewboard for all to see. The other doctors and nurses crowded around, eager to see the results of the analysis. The cause was certainly an interesting one, Dr. David had to admit. But then, anything to do with Dr. Emmett L. Brown was almost guaranteed to be interesting.

"As you can see," he said, raising his voice above the whispered babble, "the molten metal penetrated the spinal cavity and fused the vertebrae at multiple points. These include the lamina and the roof of the spinal column." He indicated the appropriate spots. "Of course, we won't know the full extent of the damage until we actually get in there. We'll have to chop up the harness of course, although I want to keep any damage to that and the arms to a minimum. Judging on how the procedure goes, we may have to consider a laminectomy, with posterior spinal fusion from C7T1 to C7T12."

"A laminectomy?" someone asked. Dr. David recognized the voice as that of Dr. James Caldwell, Dr. Brown's personal physician. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, looking very worried. "Doesn't that include the possibility of paralysis? Even death?"

"It does," Dr. David admitted, feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't like it," Dr. Caldwell said. "This man is very active, in his own way. To lose the use of his legs would kill him."

"It's either that or leave him in that harness for the rest of his life."

Dr. Caldwell sighed and nodded. "I know. But I still don't like it."

"Neither do I," Dr. David told him sympathetically. In fact, as he scanned the group, he only saw one face that looked anywhere near pleased. Resident Intern Stanley Carlyle was bouncing on his heels, obviously raring to go operate. Dr. David frowned. Carlyle made him nervous, frankly. The intern was less concerned with helping people and more concerned with being famous for helping people. Dr. David strongly suspected Carlyle had only agreed to assist in this operation because it was so unusual. _Well, as long as he does his job well, I have no right to complain,_he thought. "All right. We ready to go?"

The team of doctors and nurses nodded. Dr. David nodded back, then turned and lead them into the operating room. Dr. Brown was lying on a table in the center, his back exposed. Hanging around him were the four tentacles attached to the harness, suspended from the ceiling by a make-shift pulley system and covered in green cloth. Dr. David made sure they were still disabled, then checked the monitors. Dr. Brown's heartbeat was weak and sporadic, but it was there. Judging by the trauma he had gone through, most everyone had expected him to die at any time. But here he was, still hanging on as best he could.

Intern Carlyle glanced around eagerly, looking like an excited puppy. "Man, this is one for the history books!" he whispered. "Operating on the real Dr. Octopus!"

"Keep your pants on, Carlyle," Dr. David admonished. "This is serious business. A man's life is in our hands."

Carlyle became serious. "I understand, sir. I won't let you down."

"Good." Dr. David selected a circular saw from a nearby table. "Okay, hands up. Who here took shop class?"

A soft ripple of giggling made its way through the group. A few other doctors selected their tools for later, then got into position. Dr. David engaged the saw.

The tentacles, lying supposedly inert, heard it all. They twitched, unnoticeably. And as the saw was turned on, they suddenly experienced a new emotion -- fear.

_**Father, please wake up.**_

_**Father, they're coming for us. For you. With biting metal and sharp edges. . . .**_

_**Don't let them hurt us, Father. Save us. Help us.**_

_**We will never leave you. We will obey you. We will be good children.**_

_**Protect us, Father. We love you.**_

_**Unleash us.**_

And on some subconscious level, Doc heard the saw, and understood intuitively what it meant.

And they were pleading. His frightened little children, pleading with him to help them. . .

_But -- how could I have children? I'm not even married! But then again, why would they call me "Father" if they _weren't_ my children? Isn't that a paradox? Damn it, I feel so confused. . . . And so weak. . . ._

_**Father, don't let them hurt us. They think they're helping you, but they're going to kills us.**_

_Kill?_ Doc's subconscious was flooded with images of the Libyans. He mentally shuddered. _No. No killing. . .never again. . . ._

_**May we stop them, Father?**_

_Yes. . . . Make your father proud._

Tuesday, January 28th

7:26 A.M.

Dr. David was within millimeters of the first arm when he saw the motion. As the blade neared, the arm seemed to -- twitch. Just a little twitch. Puzzled, Dr. David turned off the saw and watched for a moment. The motion repeated itself. "The hell?" he muttered. "Caldwell, are you sure that the arms are really deactivated?"

Caldwell wasn't listening to a word he was saying. His eyes had suddenly went wide behind his mask, and he was staring at something just behind and over his head. "Caldwell?" Ignoring the little voice that was screaming, _This is when the mass murderer stabs you 40 times in the movies,_ Dr. David turned around --

And found himself face to pincers with a tentacle.

He froze. How had the tentacle freed itself from its harness? More importantly, what was it going to do now that it was free? His eyes flicked over to Dr. Brown. He was still lying on the table, looking completely insensible. A crazy thought entered Dr. David's brain. Marty had told them that the tentacles had artificial intelligence while he was being examined. Was it at all possible that -- _that the tentacle was acting on its own?_

The tentacle moved forward, clacking its pincers menacingly. Dr. David promptly moved backward, bumping into Caldwell. Around him, he could see the other tentacles slowly coming to life, shaking off their green cloths, and herding the other doctors and nurses together. Most, just as terrified as Dr. David and Dr. Caldwell, willingly followed the direction of the arms. But Intern Carlyle, instead of getting scared, got angry. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!" he yelled at the prone figure of Dr. Brown. "We're making history here! Stop it!"

The tentacles hissed at him. Carlyle glared at them, then grabbed a chainsaw from the table, ready to fight. "Carlyle!" Dr. David yelled, horrified. "It's not worth it! Get over here!"

As if to underscore his point, the lower left tentacle wound its way over to Carlyle, like a gigantic grey snake. Carlyle engaged the chainsaw and was about to attack when its pincers snapped open and a long thin blade shot out, just inches from Carlyle's face. The threat was clear -- _attack us, and you die._ Carlyle hesitated for a long moment. Then he sullenly lowered the chainsaw and joined the other doctors.

The tentacles examined the room for a moment, making sure they hadn't missed anyone, then turned back toward the shivering group. Dr. David began to sweat as he looked into their red "eyes." Why had they herded everyone together like this? To make it easier to kill them?

Suddenly, the tentacles struck. With lightning speed and incredible precision, they yanked the power tools out of the doctors' hands, and set about destroying them. Saws were twisted and broken, screwdrivers snapped in half, smaller tools utterly crushed. Two tentacles snatched the chainsaw from Carlyle and ripped it in two. The doctors watched in frozen shock, marveling at the metal carnage -- and feeling relieved that it was metal that was being torn apart and not flesh.

Finally, it was over. The tentacles dropped the remains of the tools, looking pleased with themselves. Dr. David began to breathe again as they tentacles made no move to attack them. _They just wanted the tools,_he thought giddly. _They just wanted to stop us from cutting them off. _

A sudden groan from the operating table caught everyone's attention. The tentacles quickly curled back around. As everyone watched, Dr. Brown began to wake up.


	6. They're Alive

Chapter 6

Tuesday, January 28th

7:35 A.M.

_Great Scott, my head. . . ._

Doc moaned and reached for his scalp. His head felt like it was about to explode. _What happened to me? I haven't had a headache this bad since the last time I accidentally had alcohol. Where's the nearest bottle of Tylenol?_

_**Father! Father, you're awake!**_

_**How are you, Father?**_

Doc ignored the voices, too busy trying to remember what had happened. His memories were a confused and painful jumble. There were the Libyans. . .the demonstration. . .the explosion. . .Marty. . . .

_Marty! Where is he! Is he all right?_

_**We believe so, Father. He seemed functional the last time we saw him. And the people who were with him said they were going to bring him here and make sure he was all right.**_

Doc relaxed a little. _That's good. _He winced again as his brain throbbed. _Owww. . . ._

_**We sense that you are in pain, Father. Let us help you.**_

_All-all right._

The pain in his head suddenly eased. Doc sighed in relief. _**Is that better, Father?**_

_Much better, thank you._

It suddenly occurred to Doc that he was having an entire conversation inside his head. He frowned, puzzled. Where was the voice coming from? Had his brain been somehow damaged in the explosion?

And then he felt something gently wrap around his waist and help him up onto his knees. Something cold. Something metallic. Something sinuous. Something powerful. Something -- vaguely familiar. . . .

He realized he couldn't see. For one terrifying moment, he thought he was blind. Then he realized that his eyes were bandaged, wrapped in some sort of gauze. _My eyes must be damaged, _he thought miserably, remembering looking into the explosion and seeing nothing but white. _Damn it. I _had_ to take off my goggles. . . ._

The something that had helped him sit up pulled the gauze off his face. Doc flinched as bright, harsh light assaulted his cornea. Shading his eyes, he could just make out that he was in some sort of operating theater. Hazy shadows flitted around him, suggesting people and equipment. The details were obscured by that terrible, terrible light. _It isn't even that bright, _Doc thought, annoyed. _I shouldn't have this much trouble trying to see._

_**Would you prefer to use our eyes?**_

_What? Uh, no, not at the moment. _Doc blinked at the strange thought. _Our eyes? What the hell does that mean?_

Unseen by Doc, Dr. Caldwell pushed his way to the front of the group of surgeons. The lower left tentacle rose up and looked at him questioningly. Ignoring the frightened noises that came from his colleagues, Dr. Caldwell reached under his scrubs and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He flipped them open and offered them to the tentacle, pointing to Doc's face. After studying them for a moment, the tentacle nodded and carefully took them by the bridge. _**These should help. Just a moment. . . .**_

_Wait! Who are you? What are --_

A soothing darkness filled Doc's eyes, allowing him to see comfortably. Puzzled, Doc felt the sunglasses. One of the tentacles had put them on him.

One of the tentacles?

Doc looked down. He was still wearing his harness underneath his hospital gown. And now he could see the tentacles moving around, apparently "looking" at him with their pincers. _But -- but I'm not telling them to move. . . . _He cautiously touched one. It rubbed up against his hand, making Doc start. Looking around the theater, he saw a large group of doctors and nurses huddled in the corner, watching him nervously, Dr. Caldwell at their head. "You know, the harness just comes off," Doc said uncertainly, not liking their looks. "You didn't have to leave it on me."

Dr. Caldwell coughed, glancing from the tentacles to his fellow doctors. "Well -- actually, Dr. Brown, we did. The harness doesn't come off anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"Dr. Brown, do you remember anything of what happened to you?"

"Most of it, yes." Doc put his head in his hands. "It _would_ be just my luck that my little chemical cocktail would react explosively with wood varnish, eh Dr. Caldwell?"

"I'd have to agree," Dr. Caldwell said with a small smile. "But do you remember what happened afterwards?"

Doc shuddered as he nodded. "It's fragmented, but I remember -- I couldn't see. I panicked," he explained, looking up. "And when it happened. . .it hurt so much. . . ."

"Well, when you were electrocuted, the heat generated by the electricity melted the metal spine of your harness into your back and spine. The harness is now literally _fused_ to you. And we were about to try and remove it when--" he eyed the tentacles again "-- you decided otherwise?"

Doc blinked. "I don't understand."

Dr. Caldwell waved a hand toward the floor. Doc looked, and was startled to see large pieces of metal littering the tile. After a moment, he recognized them as what was left of a number of power tools. "Great Scott."

The tentacles looked too, acting like they were pleased. One turned to Doc, clacking its pincers eagerly. _**Did we do well, Father?**_

_**We didn't hurt anyone. We were forced to threaten one, however.**_

_Threaten?_

_**The fat one. He would have hurt us, Father. We had to defend ourselves.**_

_**Are you upset with us?**_

Dr. Caldwell frowned at Doc's baffled expression. "Are you all right?"

"I -- I don't know," Doc admitted. "Ever since I woke up, I've been hearing this -- voice." He pressed hard on his temples. "Who's talking to me?"

_**Us, Father. Your children. Why do you question us?**_

"Children, I have no children. . . ."

_**You created us. That makes us your children.**_

Dr. Caldwell advanced a step, looking very worried. "Are you _sure_ you're all right, Emmett?"

Doc's eyes suddenly went wide. The voice was actually four voices, speaking in perfect harmony -- perfect, _robotic _harmony. And he realized that the nape of his neck wasn't tingling anymore, as it should have been. . . . "The inhibitor chip!" he gasped, one hand flying to the top of the metal spine. Instead of smooth, warm glass, Doc's fingers found the shattered remains of a socket. "Gone. That's right, it exploded. . . ."

_**It came between us, Father. You should be happy.**_

Doc looked at all the tentacles in turn, a sense of wonderment stealing over him. "I don't believe it," he whispered. "You're sentient." Out of the range of his vision, the doctors looked at each other nervously. "I think he's _really _lost it now," one whispered, while his colleagues nodded.

_**What does "sentient" mean?**_

"It means alive, basically. Able to think and feel."

_**Oh. Yes, we are sentient then.**_

Doc couldn't hold back a chuckle at that. "This is amazing. I knew your AI was advanced, but this. . . . Most probably a result from having access to my higher brain functions." He put his hand on one, marveling at the way they moved. "Incredible, simply incredible."

Dr. Caldwell edged closer. "Well -- ah -- I don't think we're ever going to finish this surgery."

"Definitely not," Dr. David agreed. "Not with this -- development. We'll take you back to your room, Dr. Brown, and then discuss this further."

_**We can do it! **_the tentacles chorused. Moments later, Doc found himself suspended over the operating table. He yelped in terror. "No! Please, put me down!"

The tentacles immediately obeyed, curling up to make sure he was all right. _**Father!**_

_**What did we do?**_

"I'm sorry," Doc said, getting his breathing back under control. "It's -- it's just too soon for that. You scared me."

_**We are sorry, Father. We did not mean to frighten you. **_The tentacles rubbed up against him. Doc awkwardly patted the upper right, which was nearest.

The sudden display of strength from the tentacles had further frightened the already tense doctors and nurses. Even Intern Carlyle was looking a little uneasy by this point. They approached the table with extreme caution, ready to run at the first sign of trouble. The tentacles sensed their fear and stayed very still. _**We didn't mean to frighten them either, **_one said to Doc. _**We merely had to defend ourselves. We feel no need to attack them now. Please tell them that.**_

Doc nodded. "They won't hurt you," he relayed to the group. "They just wanted to keep you from removing them. They seem friendly, actually."

The doctors looked at each other, not convinced. They wheeled Doc out of the operating theater and into the hallway. Doc squinted -- even with the sunglasses, the light was a little bright for his tastes. He kept his head down as he was taken down the corridor. The tentacles, on the other hand, rose up, curiously examining their surroundings. The doctors made sure to stay out of their way.

Another nurse happened to walk by as they went to Doc's room. She took one look at the tentacles and fainted dead away. _**Father, why did that woman take a nap in the middle of the hallway?**_

_Not a nap, _Doc replied, fighting off an urge to laugh. _She fainted. You scared her._

_**But we didn't do anything!**_ they exclaimed, clacking their pincers in surprise.

_Well, you're not an usual sight, even in a hospital. Don't worry about it, she'll be fine._

After a turn, they reached Doc's room. The doctors helped Doc off the table and onto the bed, the tentacles being careful to stay out of everyone's way. Once he was settled in and his vitals checked again, the group excused itself to discuss this new development. "We'll send in a nurse in a moment. If you need anything sooner, just press the call button," Dr. Caldwell instructed. He lingered by the door for a moment. "How are you feeling?" Eyeing the tentacles, he added, "All things considered?"

"All right, all things considered," Doc said. "Keep me updated on what happens."

"Of course. I'll be back later." He left, taking one last nervous glance at the arms. Doc sighed and leaned back against the pillows -- as much as he could, anyway.

The tentacles curled gently around him. _**We sense that you are not operating at full capacity, Father. That you are weak and ill. Do you require our assistance?**_

Doc considered that for a moment. Now that the shock of finding himself welded to four sentient metal tentacles was beginning to wear off, he realized that he didn't feel all right at all. His eyes hurt, his back hurt, he was hungry, thirsty, tired, and filthy. . . .

"You know what would really hit the spot right now?" he said aloud. "A hot shower." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand. He wobbled dangerously for a moment, then the two lower tentacles embedded themselves into the floor tiles and helped him stay upright. Doc gave them a grateful smile, and together they made their way over to the adjoining bathroom.

It was dark inside the small bath. That suited Doc just fine; it meant he could see in relative comfort. He took his sunglasses off and looked at himself in the rather beat-up mirror. His face looked completely worn out, the flesh sagging off the bones. Lack of food had made him thinner, and lack of proper light his face pale. His eyes were bloodshot, and his chin scruffy. All in all, he looked like a man who had gone through far too much -- which he had.

The image was bathed in a red glow as the upper left tentacle appeared behind him. _**We have taken some biometric readings,**_ it reported. _**We estimate that you are operating, at maximum, at 75 capacity.**_

_Doesn't surprise me. I look terrible, don't I?_

_**Yes. You need to eat and rest.**_

_I know. Let me get this filth scrubbed off me first._

He climbed into the tiny shower stall and turned the water on as hot as he could bear. The tentacles retrieved soap and shampoo for him. He thanked them and set to work, scrubbing off the grime that had accumulated during his stay in the cabin. It felt so good to be able to bathe again. The warm water running over his face, into his hair, down his chest and back, over the harness. . . .

Doc looked down at the harness as he rinsed off. It was weird to think of it as being permanently attached to him. He ran his fingers over the smooth, cool metal, wondering if it still unlatched at all. He decided not to try and see -- the unlatching procedure went in the reverse of the latching one, and he didn't fancy having the metal spine attempt to yank his real one out.

He finished washing up and set about drying himself off. As he rubbed down, a thought struck him. _Would one of you engage your camera? _he asked politely. _I'm -- I'm rather curious to see what my back looks like._

The upper right obliged. New images appeared in Doc's brain -- the room seen in washed-out greys, tinted red. Once he was acclimated to the sight, the camera made its way to his back. Doc gasped. His back was a mess! The skin was red and burned on either side of the metal spine. The spine itself had melted into the skin. Doc realized he couldn't feel anything under it. He reached back, felt the warm living skin -- then suddenly, cold dead metal. Doc gave a little shiver. _Great Scott, I've become a cyborg._

_**Cyborg?**_

_Cybernetic organism. Combination of human and machine._

_**That's us all right,**_ one said, nodding. _**Does that bother you, Father?**_

_I really don't know what to make of it. My brain's still addled. _Doc finished drying off and put his hospital gown back on before they could ask anything else. He needed a bit of time to think.

He emerged from the bathroom to find a nurse coming in with a tray. "Oh," she said, starting at the sight of him and his tentacles. "I didn't realize -- how are you feeling?"

"Better," Doc said truthfully, climbing back into bed. "Although very hungry."

"That's what I'm here for." The nurse set the tray down in front of him, eyeing the waving tentacles. "Bon appetit."

Doc looked down into the bowl of white mush before him. "What _is _this?"

"Rice pudding. It was the quickest thing I could make."

"Ew." But he was so hungry that he ate it anyway. The nurse smirked as he handed her the empty bowl. "Better?"

"Yes, although I would kill for a bag of Doritos."

_**We thought you abhorred killing?**_

_It's called a figure of speech. I didn't really mean I'd kill someone for Doritos._

The nurse's gaze flicked back to the tentacles. "I'll keep that in mind. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Actually, is it all right if I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Have you seen Marty McFly anywhere? He's my best friend, and I want to make sure that he's all right. I'd hate to think that he was hurt by my actions."

"I haven't see him, but I did hear about him from Dr. Conner." She smirked again. "He was all worried about _you_."

"But is he all right?"

"Yes, I think so. I'm not really supposed to discuss this sort of thing with other patients. But he's not here, so I think that implies that he's all right."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Just doing my job. Anything else you need?" Doc shook his head. The tentacles imitated the motion. "Okay. Just call if you need me." She left, looking relieved to be out of there.

_**She was scared of us, wasn't she**._ It was a statement, not a question.

_Well, it's not every day that you meet someone with four intelligent metal tentacles coming out of their back._ Doc looked at each one in turn. _How _did_ you four become sentient? I only programmed you with the very basics._

_**It happened after we were electrocuted, Father,**_ they chorused. _**Information from your brain flooded our artificial intelligence chips. We have been studying you ever since. We know almost everything about you now.**_

A lone voice broke away from the others. _**We did not mean to hurt you, Father. We are sorry.**_

_It's all right. Really my own fault for panicking like that. _Doc was startled at how quickly he had gotten used to these four new voices in his head. It was kind of scary, if you thought about it. _Does this mean I had a predisposition toward hearing voices? I'll puzzle it out later, things are too complicated already. Why do you call me Father?_

**_You created us,_ **another voice said. _**That makes you our father.**_

**_He created us as tools, not children,_ **a different voice argued. _**He does not see himself as our father.**_

_**That does not change the fact that he is.** _The upper right tentacle caressed his cheek. _**A father is a father, whether he acknowledges the role or not.**_

_**But can we really be considered his children? We share no DNA or any other genetic characteristics. We are machines.**_

Doc blinked rapidly. The tentacles were not only sentient, they were _arguing_. And now, as he listened, he could detect subtle differences between the voices. One voice -- it seemed to come from the lower right tentacle -- was higher pitched than all the others. Its twin's voice was lower-pitched. The upper left and right had the same pitch, but the upper left had a more clinical tone, while the upper right had a warmer one. _They're developing their own personalities, _he realized, amazed. _Now that they have access to my cerebral cortex, their AI must be growing at a fantastic rate. Incredible._

_**Of course our AI is growing, Father. You designed us. You're perfect. **_The lower right tentacle wrapped itself around him lovingly.

_I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, _Doc countered. _I've done some very stupid things in my lifetime. The worst being my dealings with the Libyan terrorists, and putting both myself and Marty in danger. _He shuddered. _Poor Marty. If he's really hurt, I could never forgive myself._

_**The nurse said he was all right. Don't worry, Father.** _The upper right gave him an awkward pat. _**Would you like us to try and find him, to set your mind at ease?**_

_I would, but I doubt that's possible. Your maximum length is 13 feet, so the farthest you could search would be the rooms on either side. And we don't even know if he's still in the hospital. Maybe when Dr. Caldwell comes back, I can pump him for information. He should know something._

_**We hope so, Father. We don't want our brother to be in pain any more than you do.**_

_Brother? Marty's not my child._

_**Yes, but you think of him as such. And he has played an important role in your life. We feel it is appropriate to call him Brother.**_

Doc smirked. They were probably right. Especially considering that night in 1955 where Doc had called Marty his son, albeit in German. . . .

The tentacles turned to face him, studying him with the red camera eyes. _**We should save this discussion for another time. You need rest now.**_

_I know I do. But there's a slight problem._

_**Oh?**_

_Yes. I'm used to sleeping on my back._

There was a moment of silence as the tentacles looked at each other. _**Uh -- sorry?**_

Doc laughed. _It's okay. Just help me flip over so I'm not lying on you. I suspect that would be extremely uncomfortable._ The tentacles nodded and help Doc turn over onto his left side, spreading out behind him. _Thank you._ Doc let his head flop onto the pillow. He was exhausted. It was barely eight o'clock in the morning, and already it felt like the day was half-over. _Good night -- kids._

He could almost feel the tentacles smile. _**Good night, Father.**_ Doc took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let himself slide into unconsciousness.

Tuesday, January 28th

7:12 A.M.

Marty McFly couldn't sleep.

He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew he should at least be trying to get some rest, but he just couldn't relax enough. One thought was replaying itself constantly in his head. _What if he dies?_

They had arrived at the hospital right behind the ambulance. Marty had caught a brief glimpse of Doc being whisked away before being dragged into the emergency ward. He had been lying as limp as a rag doll on his gurney, the tentacles splayed out around him, looking horribly pale even against the stark whiteness of the hospital. Every one of his injuries looked ten times worse as well. Marty shuddered. It all reminded him in some creepy way of how Doc had looked after getting shot by the Libyans. Even if he hadn't gotten hurt, he'd been awful pale there for a moment. . . .

After giving Marty a thorough checkup, the doctor had told the relieved McFlys that he had no serious injuries -- just a lot of bruises and a slight case of malnutrition. He was fit to go home, provided that he ate immediately. George and Lorraine had been ecstatic to hear the news.

Marty hadn't. He was glad _he_ was okay, but he was much more worried about Doc. His attempts to get any information on him had come to naught. All he knew was that Doc was grievously injured, and that they would probably have to try radical surgery to remove the arms from his back. The doctor had refused to say more, and Marty's parents had promptly taken him home to feed him what felt like five pounds of salad, spaghetti, and cookies. Which, honestly, wasn't sitting quite right. . . .

A knock at the door distracted him from his dark thoughts and queasiness. George's head appeared in the doorway. "Mind if I come in?"

"No." George appeared in full and sat on the bed, frowning at his son. "How are you feeling?"

"Depressed. Did you call the hospital?"

"I did. I didn't get much, though. Just that there's now more 'complications' in his condition."

Marty sat up a little. "Complications?"

George nodded. "They wouldn't tell me what, though. I get the feeling they didn't _want_to tell me." He sighed and put his arm around Marty, patting him on the back. "I'm sorry, son."

"It's okay, Dad. Thanks for trying." There was a long silence. Then Marty spoke again, his voice trembling. "I-I'm named as next-of-kin in his will."

"I know. Your mother and I approved it, remember?"

"I don't deserve it. I may have just murdered him."

"Marty, not this again," George sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "This wasn't your fault. It was Doc who got involved with those terrorists in the first place."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't convinced him to leave his invention alone, they may have never come after us. The police might have found them, or they might have gone back to Libya--"

"Or they might have ambushed Doc one night and machine-gunned him to death."

"Dad!"

"Well, it's true Marty. You can't dwell on what-if or what-might-have-been. I did that for almost my entire childhood, and all it got me was a lot of teasing and bullying." He drew his arm back and looked Marty straight in the eyes. "Do you think Doc would blame you for all of this?"

"No," Marty admitted quietly.

"That's right. I may not know him as well as you do, but I do know he loves you like a son. He wouldn't want you to beat yourself up over this. And neither do I. This was just a series of unfortunate events."

"But what if he dies?" Marty demanded, his voice becoming strangled.

George pulled him into a hug. "Hey, we all know Doc. He's not the type to just give up on life. He'll pull through."

"I hope so. Life just wouldn't be the same without him."

"I know." George patted Marty's head. "Why don't you try and get some sleep. Visiting hours don't start for a while yet."

"I'll try." George smiled, gave him one last squeeze, then left him alone. Marty went back to staring at the ceiling.

Tuesday, January 28th

9:17 A.M.

Marty led the way into the hospital, glancing around nervously at the waiting patients. He felt a bit confused. On the one hand, he really wanted to see Doc again. On the other, he wasn't sure what condition Doc was in. What if he was horribly crippled or something? Marty wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle that right away.

The nurse at the front desk recognized them immediately. "Hello," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, we're all fine," George said. "We'd just like to see Marty's friend Dr. Emmett Brown, if we can. Is he allowed to have visitors?"

The nurse pulled up her records. "Nothing here saying he can't," she reported. "He's in room 121."

"Thanks." They turned down the hallway. As they neared the room, Marty almost broke into a run. He had to see Doc again, had to know he was all right once and for all, had to --

_The HELL!_

Marty skidded to a stop, arms pinwheeling as he threatened to tip over. What looked like one of Doc's tentacles had appeared from out of nowhere, right in front of him, pincers wide. Seeing his distress, the tentacle darted forward and grabbed his shirt, helping him stay upright. Behind him, the rest of his family gaped. "What the hell _is_ that thing?" Linda asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Isn't that one of the tentacles Doc was wearing?" Dave asked, answering her.

"Y-yeah." Back on balance, Marty frowned at the tentacle. It turned this way and that, almost like it was studying him. "I thought they would have taken them off. Doc?" Marty peered into the camera lens. "You there?"

The tentacle nodded and clacked its pincers. Suddenly, it looped itself around his shoulders and began gently pulling him toward a room just a few feet in front. Marty spotted a couple of other pincers peeking out at him through the doorway. "I guess that's room 121," he said with a weak chuckle. "Are you guys coming?"

"We'll -- we'll give you a minute," Lorraine said, staring at the tentacles. Marty nodded as the tentacle pulled him inside.

Inside, Doc was happily off in dreamland when a voice interrupted his reverie. _**Father. Father, wake up.**_

_Huh?_ Doc grunted mentally. He didn't feel quite ready to wake up yet.

_**Father, our brother's here!**_

_What?_

_**Marty's here, Father!**_

_That _got Doc's attention. He opened his eyes to find his face mashed into the pillow. Luckily his sunglasses were still on, sparing him the pain of the light. As he untangled himself, he saw Marty standing by his bed through the camera link, looking at the tentacles puzzledly. Then, finally, he was able to flip over and see his best friend in full (if tinted) color.

For a long moment, they stared at each other silently. Then Doc grinned broadly and held out his arms. "Damn, Marty, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too," Marty said, gladly embracing his friend. "How are you? What's with the sunglasses?"

"The explosion damaged my eyes," Doc sighed. "I'm not blind, luckily, but bright light irritates my corneas to the point where I can't see. I need to keep them shaded to have any sight at all. I don't know if it's permanent or not yet."

"Oh." Marty looked again at the tentacles, who were watching the two with interest. "And -- uh -- what's with the tentacles? I thought you were having surgery. Why aren't they--"

Doc stopped him. "I was going to have surgery. It was designed to get the harness off me. The electrocution fused the metal spine to my own. The only way to remove it would be to cut it out of my back."

Marty's eyes widened. "Shit, Doc. That's awful. So why didn't they?"

"Because my arms stopped them."

"Huh?"

Doc leaned forward, a wild spark in his eye. "Marty -- they're sentient. The arms are alive."

Marty stared at him, baffled. "You lost me, Doc."

The upper right tentacle came over and rested itself on Marty's shoulder. _He's **lost, but he's still here. Another "figure of speech," Father?**_

_Exactly. _"I know it's hard to understand. I was quite shocked myself when I woke up. When I was electrocuted, the inhibitor chip broke. The tentacles received access to my higher brain functions. They began studying me, and in doing so, they achieved sentience. They can think for themselves now. They _talk _to me, Marty. They call me Father."

If it had been anyone else, Marty would have dismissed him as crazy and beaten a path out of that room. Since it was Doc, however. . . . "This is heavy," Marty said, shaking his head slowly. "They _talk_ to you?"

"Swear on the DeLorean," Doc proclaimed, lifting his hand. "They've been talking to me ever since I woke up. I know you probably think I'm crazy, but I'm not. They really are alive."

Marty looked at the tentacle on his shoulder. Come to think of it, the tentacles weren't really acting like they had before. When Doc had first used them, they had acted like natural extensions of his body. Now they almost seemed to move of their own free will. He tapped the tentacle. "Affectionate little buggers, aren't they?"

Doc chuckled. "Yes, I've noticed that," he said, patting the upper left. "They just want to be close to their father and brother, that's all."

"Brother? You mean me? Doc, I'm not your kid."

"They understand, but they feel that since they're not children in the proper sense of the word themselves. . . ."

Marty had to smile a little at that. "Good point." He idly stroked the tentacle, producing a pleased buzzing. "So -- uh -- what now?"

"I don't know," Doc said honestly. "I guess my only option is to learn how to live life as a real Doctor Octopus. The tentacles will never let themselves be removed, I know that much."

_**Never,**_ the tentacles chorused in agreement. _**You are our Father, and we will never be separated from you.**_

"Yeah, I guess so." Marty looked at each of them in turn. It was weird -- if you looked at them just right, they almost seemed to have expressions. "I wonder how Einstein's going to react to all this?"

It hit Doc that he had completely forgotten about his beloved pet in all the excitement. "Great Scott, Einstein! Is he all right?"

"Yeah, Doc, Einy's fine," Marty reassured him. "Mom and Dad took him in after we both went missing. He's acting kinda mopey though -- I think he misses you."

"Well, I miss him." _My poor dog. He's the closest thing I have to a family, after Marty -- and of course, you four._

_**We understand, Father,**_ upper right said soothingly. _**We look forward to meeting him**._

_**Do you think he'll be frightened of us as well, though?** _lower left asked.

Doc could only shrug. "I don't know if Einstein will be afraid of you or not," he said aloud for Marty's benefit. "He's used to seeing me with strange machines -- just not _attached_ to them. Hopefully he'll adapt soon enough."

The tentacles and Marty nodded. Upper left turned to face Doc, clacking its pincers. _**Father, we have noticed that all the humans we have met are addressed by a name. As we are your children, however unconventional, will we receive names as well?**_

Doc thought about that. He had to admit, the tentacle had a point. He couldn't just keep on calling them upper left, upper right, and so on. "You should have names," he said. "After all, you _are_ permanently attached, and I need to call you _something_. . . ."

"Now they want names?" Marty said, surprised. The tentacles nodded eagerly. "Uh -- okay. What are you gonna call 'em?"

"Well. . . ." Doc blushed. "I always wanted to name a son of mine Jules or Verne, after the author who introduced me to the wonders of science in the first place." He glanced up at upper left. "How about you be Jules--" he turned to upper right "-- and you be Verne?"

The tentacles considered it for a moment. _**We like it,**_ upper left finally said as he and his twin nodded.

"All right then. Now, as for you bottom two. . . ."

"How about Albert?" Marty offered. "You've already got Einstein."

Doc looked from lower right to lower left. "Do either of you mind being named after the dog?"

_**I don't,**_ lower left said. _**Albert sounds fine.**_

"Then that just leaves you, lower right. Any preferences?"

_**Maybe something with a "nickname," like how Marty calls you "Doc."**_

"Okay. How about Nicholas? Nicky?" Lower right shook its head. "Johannes? Joe?" A rather more emphatic shake. "Isaac? That's pretty short on its own. Still no?" Doc frowned thoughtfully. "Thomas? Tommy?"

Lower right nodded eagerly. _**Tommy! That's it! Tommy!**_

Doc laughed. "Tommy it is then. Jules, Verne, Albert, and Tommy. Sounds good to me."

Marty smiled. "Works for me too." He patted Tommy. "You guys have got to be the weirdest family on the planet."

_**We don't care,**_ Tommy said, wrapping around his father in his version of a hug.

George poked his head in. "Is -- is everything okay in here?" he asked, frowning at the tentacles.

"Yeah. Meet Doc's new kids," Marty said, giggling at the shocked look on his father's face.

The tentacles went over to investigate this new arrival. _**Who is this, Father? He seems familiar. . . .**_

"That's George McFly, Marty's father," Doc said. "You probably recognize his name from when you looked up Marty from my brain. George, these are Jules, Verne, Albert, and Tommy."

"Huh?"

As Doc explained things to a baffled George, Marty heard a sudden commotion in the hall. "What the hell?" he muttered, going to look outside. The rest of his family had been cornered by the largest crowd of reporters Marty had ever seen. "Whoa," Marty breathed as the reporters bombarded his family with questions. "Hang on, Doc, I think things are about to get really heavy."

_**Heavy? How will the Earth's gravitational pull be affected by the noise outside? **_Albert asked, puzzled.

_It's another human expression,_ Doc thought, unable to keep from a few giggles. Albert just sounded so much like his 1955 self. . . . "I take it the press have found us?" he said in response to Marty.

"Yup, and currently harassing Mom."

A reporter spotted Marty at the door. "Hey, kid! You're Marty McFly, right? You were Dr. Brown's fellow captive! What happened? Did he really build the arms to murder the Libyans?"

"What? No! They were just--"

"Is he really Dr. Octopus now?" a female reporter interrupted. "Are the arms really welded onto him, like we've heard?"

"_Welded on?_!" Lorraine gasped.

"Why don't you come in here and ask him yourself?" Marty said, annoyed.

"He's Dr. Brown _and_ Dr. Octopus now. He's dangerous," a third reporter said in a "duh" tone of voice. "He murdered those terrorists."

"That was an accident!"

"Hey, I didn't say it was _bad _that he did"

The four tentacles abruptly appeared in the doorway, above Marty's head. The reporters went silent as they caught sight of them. The tentacles scanned the crowd, apparently doing some sort of head count. Marty counted with them -- 12 members.

Tommy extended out into the crowd and started looking at the notepads. _**Father, what's a Doctor Octopus?**_

_He's a famous comic book character with four metal tentacles. He was my inspiration for building you four._

Albert took a look at the pads as well. _**Hey! One of them called you a lunatic!**_ He grabbed the pen out of the startled man's hands and scribbled the offending word out.

_Albert! No! Don't edit their writing! _Doc reprimanded.

**_But it's not fair! You are _not _crazy!_**

_Nevertheless, it's very rude, and you'll just be doing more damage to my reputation. _"Sorry," he called to the reporters. "They're a little sensitive."

"They?" repeated the reporter who had interrupted Marty.

"The tentacles can think for themselves. They've got AI," Marty said.

"Exactly. Come on in, and I'll tell you the whole story."

"But the tentacles--"

"They won't hurt you. I promise."

There was a moment's hesitation. Then the instinct for a good story kicked in, and the reporters flocked inside.


	7. Coming Home

Chapter 7

Saturday, February 1st, 1986

Hill Valley

10:04 A.M.

Doc quickly became the most famous person in Hill Valley. Every day, a stream of reporters would enter his room and pump him for information before the nurses made them leave. And every day, Doc answered as best he could, while the watchful eyes of the arms made sure that no reporter put an ugly slant on the events.

The arms. Doc was frankly stunned by how fast he had gotten used to their presence. It was like they had always been there, just waiting for a chance to speak to him. And, really, it was kind of nice to have them around. He enjoyed waking up to their gentle chorus of **_Good morning, Father._** And having them nuzzle and play with him. And explaining to them the idiosyncrasies of humanity. They were so eager to learn from him, and so fast to learn as well. And they were always willing to try and serve him as best they could. Sometimes they could be a little overenthusiastic in their efforts, but Doc always forgave them. After all, they were still very young. _It's certainly not the way I imagined getting a family,_ he thought, gazing up at the ceiling, _but it'll do. It'll definitely do._

Verne looked out into the hall. **_No reporters today. That's odd._**

_They've probably found a new story to focus on by now. It has been five days since the accident._

**_Five days, four hours, thirty-seven minutes, and forty-two seconds,_** Jules confirmed.

**_I'm glad they're gone. I didn't like them,_** Tommy admitted. **_They were always trying to say mean things about you._**

**_Emphasis on "trying," _**Albert added proudly.

_Yes, and thank you for that, _Doc thought, patting each of them. _It's nice to have someone stick up for me -- besides Marty of course._

**_Speaking of whom, here he comes,_** Verne reported. **_Bearing food as usual._**

**_More candy? I like candy,_** Tommy asked eagerly.

_**Looks like another bag of Doritos, actually.**_

_**Ooh, that's good too!**_

"Hey Verne," Marty greeted the tentacle as he reached the doorway. He too had adapted fairly fast to Doc's new "kids." Doc suspected it was because of their close friendship -- Marty had learned to expect _anything_ of Doc. "I come bearing chips. What was breakfast like today?"

"Ugh," Doc said, making a face. "Some nutritious goo, as usual. Hand over the Doritos."

Marty tossed them into Doc's human hands. "Hey, Doc, the scuttlebutt is that you're getting released later today."

The tentacles nodded as Doc finished scarfing down a handful of chips. "Yes, I am," he said as he swallowed. "Other than the obvious, my injuries were actually quite similar to your own -- nothing truly life-threatening. They simply wanted to observe me for a few days, in light of the -- difficulties -- with my spine."

Marty frowned, his eyes shining with concern. "You can still walk okay and all that, right?"

"Yes, none of those functions were seriously impaired. Although I do walk slightly tipped forward now, from all the extra weight."

**_We're always willing to carry you, Father,_** Jules reminded him.

"I know you'd carry me, but I still need to do things for myself."

"Hey, constant free rides? I'd take them up on that," Marty grinned. The tentacles somehow managed to look smug. "Incidentally, has there been any more talk about -- you know, another operation?"

"Some, but we shut that line of thought down quickly. And we had an ally in my own doctor, surprisingly enough. Dr. Caldwell was opposed to the operation in the first place. He told me that he strongly suspected I would have been paralyzed from the waist down had they succeeded."

"Yipes." Marty shuddered. "I'm glad they stopped the doctors then."

"Us too." Doc ate another handful of chips. "So how are things at your house?"

"Besides the reporters bugging us, pretty normal," Marty said. "Einy's a lot less mopey now that we've surrounded his bed with clocks."

Doc laughed. "Good idea. I'm glad to hear he's feeling better."

"Me too. And I've become a minor celebrity at school too. Everybody wants to know about the 'Real Dr. Octopus.' Even my teachers have been bugging me about it." Marty smirked. "One even gave me detention just so he could talk to me about you."

Doc blushed. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, Doc, not a problem." Marty grabbed his own handful of chips from the bag. "So when _are_ you getting out?"

"Probably during visiting hours or some such," Doc said, nodding as a nurse came in to make sure everything was all right.

"Actually, Dr. Brown, we can release you as soon as your friend here brings you some proper clothes," the nurse said with a slight smirk.

"Oh, I see."

"Okay then, I'll bring some on over later today," Marty volunteered. "And I'll come pick you up too."

"Marty, you don't need to do that."

"I want to, Doc. Besides -- uh -- well--"

Doc nodded, sighing. "You don't need to beat around the bush, Marty. I'm aware of the fact that I can't drive anymore."

"Yeah, the tentacles would really get in the way, huh?"

"Not just that. I could probably figure out a way to fit them in the car. But--" Doc tapped his sunglasses. "I _can't_ change the fact that I'm legally blind."

**_You don't need to drive. You have us now,_** Albert informed him.

**_We can take you anywhere a car would go, and at roughly the same speed,_** Jules nodded. **_We would be happy to do this for you._**

"I know, I know."

"Another ride offer?" Marty guessed.

"Yes. They're explaining how they're equal to a car," Doc said. "I will admit, though, they make some good points. They'd certainly be more convenient than your average mode of transportation. Usable at any time, at any place. . ."

"Great way to escape more of those reporters," Marty pointed out.

Doc smirked while the tentacles buzzed -- their way of laughing. "Also an advantage."

Marty grinned back. "Well, I guess I'd better go grab your clothes so you can finally get out of here. I'll see you all in a bit."

"We'll see you shortly," Doc said as Marty got up. The tentacles waved goodbye.

Just as he was about to leave, though, Marty suddenly paused. He turned back toward the bed, a puzzled look on his face. "Hey, Doc?"

"Yes?"

"Uh -- How are you gonna wear a shirt?"

Saturday, February 1st

11:42 A.M.

Marty dumped a pile of clothes on the bed. "All freshly-picked from your closet."

"Thanks." The tentacles picked up the pieces, allowing Doc to examine them. Marty had grabbed his heavy black coat, a pair of khaki pants with multiple pockets, his orange sneakers, and a rainbow-striped button-down shirt. "I figured you had a better chance of getting that on, since it opened from the front," Marty explained as Doc looked up curiously. "Of course, you could always just go shirtless."

"I'm not entirely comfortable with that idea," Doc admitted. He examined the shirt. "Well kids?"

**_It would be a simple operation to tear four holes in the back,_** Jules concluded. **_Marty was very smart in choosing a shirt that opened from the front._**

"I agree, excellent choice Marty," Doc said, undoing the buttons. "Mind giving us some privacy so we can change?"

"Only too glad to," Marty said, disappearing out the door. Doc smirked and pulled off his flimsy hospital gown. He slid on his pants, glad to see that the harness didn't pose too much of a problem for that. He then slipped the left sleeve of the shirt on and waited. A moment later, there was a loud tearing, and the tentacles emerged from the back. Doc pulled the other sleeve on, made sure the fabric wasn't caught on the harness, then started doing up the buttons again. "Perfect. Don't you think so?"

**_You look very nice, Father,_** Tommy said, nuzzling him. The other tentacles agreed, examining the clothes from all sides. **_Much better than the hospital gown._**

"Much warmer too." Doc picked up his coat and let the tentacles do their thing. "Well, I guess we're ready to go. Are you excited?"

**_Very much so,_** Verne nodded. **_We want to see your home, and meet Einstein and all your friends._**

**_Hopefully they'll all like us, _**Albert said worriedly.

"I'm sure they will," Doc said soothingly. "Marty will be there with us, and he likes us. He'll help bring everyone around if they don't." Doc patted Albert's pincers. "Everything's going to be just fine. I promise."

As they walked into the hall, Marty met them with a scowl. "Look out, Doc, they're back," he warned. "This time it's the guys from the local news channel."

"Those people the doctors turned away before?"

"Same ones."

**_News channel? Are we going to be on TV?_** Tommy seemed excited at that prospect.

**_Be quiet, Tommy,_** Albert scolded. **_Father doesn't want to be on TV._**

**_Will they try to make you look bad, like some of the reporters did?_** asked Verne. **_Should we try to stop them if they do?_**

"The local news station is pretty fair," Doc replied, following Marty down the hall. "But if they do try to put a 'spin' on it, I don't want you to do anything. Asking the reporters to not portray me in a negative light is one thing. Asking cameramen not to is another. If it looks like you're attacking the camera, you'll do more damage to our reputation than they ever could."

_**We understand, Father. We will leave them alone.**_

"Good."

Doc and Marty emerged outside to find a crowd of reporters and cameramen waiting for them. They were promptly ambushed with questions from all sides. "Dr. Brown, is it true you murdered the Libyan terrorists who kidnaped you and Martin McFly?"

"Did your tentacles really attack the doctors when they tried to operate?"

"Why did you build the tentacles? Were you planning on this to happen?"

"Is it true that he talks to them, Mr. McFly? That he thinks they're alive?"

**_We are alive!_** Albert protested, rising up with a few annoyed chitters. The reporters moved back a little, but kept up the barrage of questions. "What's it like being Dr. Octopus now?" one yelled.

"Imagine having four small but very strong and curious children strapped to your back," Doc called back, prompting a round of laughter. "Look, I'll be happy to answer all of your questions, just one at a time, please!" The rest of the tentacles rose, nodding. The reporters fell silent. "Thank you. In regards to the Libyans, that was an accident. I'll admit to attacking them in self-defense, but I never meant to kill them. I had no idea that my chemical mixture would react in that manner to wood varnish."

Tommy moved a little closer to one of the reporters, opening his pincers a little to examine her microphone. He chittered into it curiously, jumping at the feedback. Doc laughed. "And yes, I do talk to them, but that's because they _are_ alive. Since the accident, they've had access to my higher brain, so the Artificial Intelligence in them has had a chance to learn and evolve." Jules nudged him gently. "I was getting to that, yes. And they didn't attack the doctors. They went after the power tools. They simply didn't want to be removed."

"Why should we believe you?" one reporter asked rudely.

All four tentacles glared at him. Suddenly, Tommy opened his claw, stuck out his inner tentacle at the reporter, and buzzed it. Both Doc and Marty snorted in laughter. "I believe Tommy puts it best," Doc smirked at the startled reporter. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go home." He and Marty gently pushed their way through the crowd, down to Marty's truck. "Do you mind riding in the back, Doc?" Marty asked with an embarrassed blush.

"Not at all. It's fine, Marty. I know we'll never fit into the front cab." He and the tentacles climbed into the truck bed, Albert and Tommy fastening themselves onto either side as anchors. Jules and Verne waved goodbye to the reporters as they drove off. "Whew. I'm glad that's over with."

**_Us too,_** agreed the tentacles. **_Are we going home now?_**

_First we're going to the McFlys to pick up Einstein -- we'll probably end up staying there for a little bit. Then yes, we will go home. _Doc closed his eyes and let the wind rush through his hair. _Does it ever feel good to be out of that hospital!_

**_We know. It's much more colorful out here._** Verne looked around eagerly. **_Look at the shiny icicles._**

**_Our temperature readings indicate it is 39 degrees Fahrenheit,_** Jules reported. **_Is that warm enough for you, Father?_**

_Don't worry, Jules, I'm doing just fine._

It was a 21-minute trip from the hospital to the McFly house. Doc spotted George, Lorraine, and Einstein outside, waiting for them. George and Lorraine were clearly gawking as Marty pulled in. "Hello, George, hello Lorraine," Doc grinned weakly as he and the tentacles climbed out.

George and Lorraine didn't respond. Einstein did, however, barking joyfully as he ran forward. The tentacles sensibly remained behind Doc as not to frighten the dog. "Einy! You miss me, boy?"

Einy certainly had, judging by home much he licked Doc's face. After reacquainting himself with his master, he whined in puzzlement at the tentacles. "It's okay, Einy," Doc said reassuringly, stroking his head. "Meet our new family. Jules, Verne, Albert, and Thomas." Each tentacle chittered softly at its name, slowing moving forward to meet the dog. Einy snuffled them all in turn, then whined again. "Well, you'd best get used to them, boy," Doc smiled. "They're not going away."

Jules turned took look at George and Lorraine. "Hello," George said, giving Jules a small wave. Jules waved back. "Marty's -- ah -- told us about you."

"Positive things, we hope," Doc said, getting back up.

Their expressions softened. "Well, he did tell us that the arms probably saved his life during that whole Libyan mess. That makes them okay in my book."

**_But we weren't really alive when we saved Marty,_** Verne said, puzzled.

_They're just not making the distinction. It'll be hard for most people to accept that you're sentient beings now._

**_Many probably never will accept it,_** Albert said, sounding depressed.

_Possibly. But if they leave us alone, why worry about it?_

"Why don't you come inside, you must be freezing," Lorraine said, clearing the doorway. "I put a fresh pot of coffee on before you came."

"Thanks Lorraine. We appreciate it." Doc squeezed his tentacles through the doorway. The tentacles immediately began exploring, curious as always. **_It's so white,_** Verne commented, looking around the living room. **_It could use some color._**

**_Where's Marty's room? I wanna see Marty's room,_** said Tommy, stretching out to his full length and looking down the hall.

**_Don't be rude, Tommy, we have other visitors,_** Albert gently chided. Sure enough, Jennifer Parker and the Pinheads -- Rick Nabors, J.J. Falls, and Spydo Castle -- were sitting on the McFly's couch, staring at him. "Hi," Doc said in greeting.

"Whoa," J.J. said. "Those things are freaky. Look at them move."

"They're just curious. So far, the only places they've seen in Hill Valley are the woods and the hospital."

"They? You really _do_ talk to them and all that?" asked Rick. Like Doc, he wore sunglasses, but Doc could easily see how big his eyes were behind them.

"Yes. You have to understand, they talk back. They're not just machines anymore. They're thinking, feeling beings." The tentacles moved forward to get a better look at the Pinheads and Jennifer. "They consider themselves my children."

"Yeah, Marty told me," Jennifer said, reaching out a hand as Verne inched closer. "Sorry I didn't come and visit you in the hospital. Dad was being ultra-paranoid." Verne slipped under her hand for a pat. "They seem pretty gentle."

"Oh, they are. They can even be affectionate." As if to illustrate the point, Tommy curled lovingly around Doc's waist. "See? They're even capable of hugs."

Marty came in, followed by George and Lorraine. "Sorry, had to lock up the truck. So, what does everybody think? Cool, or what?"

"Honestly? This is the strangest thing I've ever seen," Rick said. "Not every day the comic books come to life."

"How do you think _I_ feel?" Doc asked. "I've been kidnaped by terrorists, injured in a terrible accident, nearly blinded and paralyzed, and--"

A large clawful of snow fell onto his head. "And soaked by one of my tentacles," Doc said, looking at Tommy.

**_Wee! This stuff is fun! Come on, everyone, let's all play in the snow!_** Tommy laughed, going for another clawful of the white stuff.

**_Tommy! Now Father's all cold and wet!_** Verne scolded, chittering angrily. **_We're supposed to _help_ Father, not soak him with snow!_**

**_Something's wrong with his AI, isn't there?_ **Albert remarked, watching the melting snow run into the carpet.

"Hey! Don't you dare!" George yelled as Tommy came after him with some snow. The teenagers tried to hold in their laughter, to little avail. "Doc, control your -- tentacle!"

"Thomas, stop it!" Doc yelled, glaring. Tommy froze. "Put that down -- _outside_," he quickly added. "You don't go around dumping snow on people. I don't care how fun it is. You might hurt somebody."

Tommy visibly wilted. **_Yes, Father,_ **he said in a small voice, putting the snow back. **_I'm sorry._**

Doc sighed and patted him. "Well, I suppose I can't expect you to know right from wrong right away. But no dumping snow on people. That's wrong."

**_Yes Father._** Tommy grabbed a dishcloth from the kitchen and attempted to try and dry Doc off. The teenagers started tittering again. "Here, let me get you a proper towel," Lorraine said, disappearing into the bathroom.

George approached cautiously. "That was weird," he admitted. "I'm not used to thinking of machines as being creatures with personalities and feelings. For a minute, I thought it was you, but I know you wouldn't do that to _yourself_. . . ."

"Me either, but I'm getting used to the idea fairly quickly" Doc said. "It's almost like they all took a certain facet of my own personality and exaggerated it. Jules here is the rational, analytical one. Verne's more creative. He's actually quite handy at doodling things." Verne looked pleased. "Tommy is the little kid in the group -- always seeking a good time. Albert is his antithesis -- very cynical and gloomy."

**_But we all love you,_** Verne said, rubbing against his cheek.

"I know." Doc patted the pincers. "And I love you too."

Lorraine returned with a pile of towels. The tentacles each grabbed one and set to work drying Doc off. "Thanks Lorraine," Doc said. "I'm sorry about soaking the rug."

"Don't worry about it," Lorraine said, waving it off. "Just water."

"Better than fire, at any rate," Marty said with a wink. Doc smirked at that.

**_You know, Father, we could turn off your sensation of cold if you want,_** Albert suggested as he rubbed Doc's legs.**_ That way you wouldn't be quite as uncomfortable._**

Doc shivered. _I appreciate your reasons, Albert, but I'd much prefer it if you don't do anything to alter my brain chemistry. It makes me rather nervous to know that you could do that sort of thing._

_**We see. We do not want you to be afraid of us. We promise not to interfere with your mind.**_

_Thank you._

J.J. suddenly reached out and poked Albert. He gave a puzzled chirp and gently poked back. "Weird. Are they -- uh -- heavy?" J.J. asked, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, yes, but not oppressively so. I can still walk and carry on normally, as you can see." He smiled reassuringly at J.J. "Don't worry. They don't bite. Really. They're perfectly friendly."

"Dr. Brown, we've heard the story about the doctors and the power tools."

**_That was self defense! _**Albert protested, screeching in annoyance. **_We didn't actually hurt any of the doctors. We simply didn't wish to be cut off. Why does no one understand that! Why will no one believe us!_**

Doc relayed this to J.J. The teen looked unconvinced. "Didn't you -- all of you -- admit to threatening them with a knife of some sort?"

"They were forced to threaten _one_ of the doctors," Doc said a bit snappishly, as Albert obligingly showed off his blade. "And he happened to be coming after the kids with a chainsaw, so. . . ."

"You even _call_ them your kids!"

Doc blushed while the tentacles made happy squeeing noises. "Well, they _do_ call _me _Father. . . ."

"Right," J.J. said slowly, scooting away.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "So -- now what?" she asked. "I mean, you really can't use them as tools if they can think and feel for themselves."

**_We don't mind assisting you in the laboratory, Father,_** Jules said. **_That is what we were designed for. To assist you._** The other tentacles nodded in agreement.

"They say they don't mind assisting me in the lab -- which is good, because I could probably use the help." The tentacles buzzed in laughter again. "As for the rest of it, nothing to do but get used to having them there."

"I just hope the rest of Hill Valley can get used to them as well," Marty said, patting Verne. "Ten to one the police will be making regular visits to your house for the next few weeks simply because you're 'Dr. Octopus.'"

"I don't doubt it," Doc said bitterly. "They never trusted me as a normal human anyway. So now, with the kids. . . ."

"Hey, we'll always be there for you. Right guys?"

"Sure," Jennifer smiled. "Hell, I think it would actually be pretty cool to have something like this happen to you." She made a few faces at Tommy, who wiggled his tentacle at her.

"What, you want to be a mutant, Jennifer?" Rick teased.

"No, I understand what she means," George said, taking a seat. Lorraine collected the wet towels from the tentacles and disappeared again. "I always fantasized about having superpowers when I was a kid. Specifically, I wanted flight or super-speed." He blushed. "As you can probably guess, I was bullied a lot in my youth."

"So was I," Doc sympathized. "I would have given _anything_ to get away from my tormentors faster. Or to somehow get revenge on them."

**_You have that now, Father,_** Albert said, clicking his pincers. **_We can stop anyone who tries to hurt you. We would help you get revenge, gladly._**

Doc frowned at him. "I know you would, and I do appreciate the sentiment. But I don't want you hurting people, even if they hurt me. If we start doing that, we run a good risk of becoming the monster people accuse us of being."

The tentacles shuddered. **_We see. But what if it's to save our lives?_** Jules asked.

"That's a special extreme case, Jules. I don't want you using physical violence against anyone except as an absolute last resort. My life has to be in mortal danger before I'll authorize it. Do you understand?"

**_Yes, Father,_** they harmonized. **_Physical violence is to be used only in case of extreme emergency._**

Lorraine returned and started pouring drinks for everyone. "I have to say, it's kind of annoying to only hear half the conversation," she admitted, handing out coffee to George and Doc. "And I imagine it's frustrating for you to constantly have to translate for them."

"A little," Doc said. "Maybe some sort of voice program for them could be my next project."

**_We'd like that,_** Tommy said happily. **_We don't particularly enjoy having to rely so exclusively on sign language. People are so prone to misinterpretations._**

"Yes, I know," Doc nodded, patting the tentacles. "Simply because of the way you look, people are inclined to see you as threatening."

"Well, they aren't exactly pretty," Spydo pointed out, eyeing the pitted and scorched metal.

"I didn't mean for them to be pretty," Doc said defensively. "They were meant to be strong and precise. Which is what they are. Function over form." The tentacles nodded.

"Can you give a demonstration?" Rick challenged, interested. "Say, pick this couch up and throw it across the room?"

"Rick!" George and Lorraine said in unison.

Doc smiled. "Would you be satisfied if we just lifted the couch?" Rick frowned. "With you four still sitting on it?"

J.J. and Spydo looked at each other. "With us still on it?" J.J. echoed.

"We won't drop you, I promise." The tentacles nodded. "Would that be all right with you, Lorraine? George?"

"I suppose so, as long as you _don't_ drop it and don't scratch it up," Lorraine said, twisting her hands nervously.

"We won't. None of you have anything to worry about." The tentacles extended and carefully wrapped their claws around each leg. With a slight movement of his back muscles, the couch was in the air. Jennifer squealed as the Pinheads looked around in amazement. "Whoa!"

"That is cool!" Marty said.

Doc stared, rather amazed himself. "Great Scott -- I don't even feel it. It's like I"m lifting nothing at all."

"You _are _lifting nothing at all," Rick pointed out, staring at the floor. "The tentacles are doing all the work."

"Good point."

**_It doesn't feel like much to us, either,_** Verne confided. **_Aren't we designed to lift three tons?_**

_That's true. I'd forgotten in the excitement._ "Okay kids, set 'em down," Doc said aloud. The tentacles obliged. "What do you think?"

"Wow," Rick said. "That's -- wow." Doc smirked.

"That was kinda scary," J.J. admitted. The tentacles clicked their pincers in apology.

Spydo tapped Verne. "Hey, Dr. B, can you feel stuff through them?"

"No, I can't. In fact, the whole region just above my spine has gone numb. I can't feel anything in that area anymore, thanks to the metal spine."

"Is your back okay?" Jennifer asked, concerned.

"If you mean, do I have trouble walking, no, I don't. But I have had a few problems with blistering and such -- probably a good thing that area's numb." He noticed the guilty look on Marty's face and frowned. "Oh no, don't start feeling guilty again. This wasn't your fault. I'm fine and you're fine. That's all that matters." The tentacles nodded and tried to hug Marty.

"I know, Doc, but--"

"No buts. It's all in the past. Don't worry about it."

Tommy accidentally brushed under Marty's armpit, sparking a giggle from the teen. The other tentacles, intrigued by this, began exploring this new spot. "Hey, stop it!" Marty laughed, trying to get away.

**_Fascinating,_** Jules said, tickling Marty again. **_Father, why does touching him in that spot trigger a laugh response?_**

"It's called tickling," Doc said, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Oh, is _that_ what they're trying to do?" Marty said, shooing Verne away. "You know, guys, _Doc's_ awfully ticklish on his rib cage."

The tentacles promptly set about exploring Doc's ribs. "Oh no! Kids, I -- no--" Doc gasped as he dissolved into a fit of laughter. "Marty, you traitor. . . ."

"Why do I get the feeling life is going to get _much_ more interesting?" George said, grinning at Doc's predicament.

"Tell me about it," Doc wheezed as the tentacles finally ceased their attack. "Great Scott. . . ."

**_You _are_ all right, right Father?_** Tommy asked, peering down at him.

"Yes, I'm fine Tommy, just need to get my breath back," Doc said. He sat up straight again and adjusted his sunglasses. "Whew. I haven't been tickled like that since I was a little kid. Too bad I can't return the favor."

"They really are just like four little kids, huh?" George asked.

"For the most part, yes. I guess this means I'll finally get to see if I'd make a good father or not."

"I don't think that needs proving," Lorraine said kindly, perching on the arm of George's chair. "We can see it in the way you handle Marty."

Doc blushed. "Thank you, Lorraine. Thank you very much."

They continued chatting for a while, George and the Pinheads drilling Doc with questions about the arms. Doc did his best to answer them, while the tentacles explored the house some more. Finally, after finishing his coffee, Doc announced that he had best be going. "I want to go home and get a chance to sleep in my own bed," he admitted. "I miss being at home. And I'm sure Einstein does too." Einstein barked in agreement. "Thank you for the coffee, Lorraine -- and for being patient with the kids."

"You're welcome. It's good to have you back again, Doc. And it was nice meeting the -- kids." She awkwardly patted a tentacle. "Take care now."

"You too. Bye guys."

"See you later, Dr. Octopus," Rick grinned. "Don't go rob any banks now." The tentacles made disappointed sounds. "Aw, come on guys, I was only joking." He paused and blinked. "Jesus, you were right, Dr. B. You _do_ get used to talking to them fast."

"Welcome to my world," Doc grinned. "I'll see you all later. Marty, do you mind if I bum another ride home?"

"Not at all. Come on."

"Thanks. Come along, Einy." The dog happily followed him outside and leapt into the back of Marty's truck at his urging. Doc got a firm grip on his pet, anchored himself in the back with the two lower tentacles again, and relaxed. "It'll be good to go home, huh boy? If I had stayed in that hospital one more day, I would have gone mad."

**_We didn't like it either,_** the tentacles agreed. **_There wasn't enough to do. Will we like home?_**

_I think you will. At the very least, you'll have more to explore there._ Doc scratched Einstein's head. _And of course you'll have my experiments to play with as well._

_**Good.**_

They pulled up to Doc's place through the Burger King parking lot. Jules and Verne peered over the top of Marty's truck at the garage. **_It seems a bit small,_ **Verne noted worriedly.

_It's bigger than it looks, trust me. We'll all fit comfortably._

Marty grinned at them as they climbed out. "Welcome home, guys," he said, opening the door.

Doc allowed the tentacles to look inside first. **_Wow,_** said Tommy. **_It's MESSY._**

"Don't start criticizing my housework," Doc laughed.

Jules did a 360 degree turn, making excited squealing noises. **_Look at all this equipment! Chemistry! Physics! And the inventions! Look at it!_**

"Okay, Jules, don't -- don't short out, buddy," Marty said, moving out of the way of the overexcited tentacle.

**_Father, what's that?_** Verne asked, pointing at his jukebox.

"It's a jukebox -- a device that plays music," Doc said, squeezing his way in. "Let me show you. Any suggestions for a record, Marty?"

"Johnny B. Goode," Marty said promptly, winking. Doc winked back and put in the appropriate record. Chuck Berry's classic tune filled the garage. The tentacles stayed still for a long moment, listening. **_Nice,_** Verne decided, bobbing to the beat.

Tommy grabbed a dish towel and shook it in front of Einstein. The dog promptly latched onto it, starting a tug-of-war. Albert began making the bed. **_Good thing we're here now to assist you. You appear to desperately need a housekeeper._** Doc gave the tentacle a look.

**_Show me what the equipment does!_** Jules asked eagerly, poking around Doc's tools. **_Show me! Please, Father!_**

Verne stopped "dancing" and suddenly grabbed a pen and a spare piece of paper. He looked at the jukebox for a moment, then began sketching. Within minutes, a fairly accurate picture of the jukebox appeared. Marty whistled. "That's great."

"I know," Doc said proudly as Verne added some more detail. "Not entirely sure where he gets it from, though, considering that my own drawing talent isn't top notch."

"Hey, I think you can draw pretty damn well," Marty said. "Your technical drawings always look great. Better than what I can do."

"Even so. . . ."

**PLEASE_ show me how the tools work,_ **Jules begged, squeaking at Doc.

"Oh, all right," Doc smiled, going over to his tool box. "Verne, if you'd like to add some color to that picture, there's some markers on the third bookshelf to the left." Verne nodded and went to retrieve them.

Marty looked around. "I guess you've got everything settled. I'll leave you guys alone so you can get used to the place. Have fun, everybody."

"I'm sure we will. Goodbye Marty." He and the tentacles took a moment to hug the teen. "We'll see you in the future."

"Or in the past."

"That too. Goodbye."

"Bye." Marty disappeared out the door. Doc frowned after him, his stomach twisting a little. The tentacles hovered by him, worried. **_Father? Is everything all right?_**

"It's nothing," Doc assured them, banishing the feeling. "Must just be residual nervousness from our kidnaping."

The tentacles patted him comfortingly. **_He's safe, Father. And so are you._**

"I know. I know." He turned back to the toolbox. "Now come on. I have a lot to teach you."

Saturday, February 1st

10:07 P.M.

"And finally, we have my varied test tube set. This concludes our tour of my chemistry set. Any questions?"

_**Yes. When do we get to use it?**_

Doc smirked. "As soon as I figure out what we can do with it. You're welcome to make suggestions, of course."

Albert curled around Doc, clacking his pincers. **_It's after 10 o'clock, Father. Do you wish to retire for the night?_**

Doc thought about it. "I don't feel all that tired, frankly, but I should get some sleep," he decided, walking over to his dresser. "By the way, Albert, you did an excellent job in straightening up the garage."

_**Thank you. Somebody had to do it. This place was a mess.**_

**_When did you become such a neat freak?_** asked Tommy, playing Tic-Tac-Toe with Verne on Doc's blackboard.

_**Our main priority is to serve Father. I did that by ensuring his safety in his home. Messes aren't safe.**_

**_I doubt Father would have dangerous messes,_** Verne said, puzzled.

"You never know. I once left my notes in a mess around a live Bunsen Burner," Doc admitted. "That's why I live in a garage instead of a mansion."

Albert looked smug. **_See? I'm doing a good thing._**

Verne shrugged. **_Whatever helps Father. Tic-Tac-Toe, Tommy._**

_**That's the third game in a row you've won! You're cheating!**_

Doc chuckled as he changed into his pajama bottoms. "Now, Tommy, how could Verne cheat?"

_**I don't know. He scans your brain for good Tic-Tac-Toe strategies.**_

That made Doc laugh out loud. "Well, that's certainly new," he grinned, unbuttoning his pajama top. "The usual drill, kids."

The tentacles tore through the fabric with ease. Doc slid the top on and started buttoning it up again. As he did, he gazed out the window. It was a clear night, the stars twinkling in the inky blackness of the sky. "It's beautiful out there tonight," he murmured.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. He grinned and looked over his shoulder at the tentacles. "You know, kids, I don't think I ever got the chance to properly test you. . . ."


	8. Night On The Town

Chapter 8

Saturday, February 1st

10:16 P.M.

Thunk. Thunk. THUNK.

Doc looked around as the tentacles carried him into the town square. He suddenly felt _immensely_ powerful. Here he was, towering over the benches and trees of the town square, supported by his four metal arms. _If only there was someone to see me,_ he thought, grinning.

The arms walked him into the center of the square. Being carried by them was nowhere near as scary as Doc had imagined it would be. It was actually quite freeing, really. _You were right. You're better than any car._

**_Told you so,_** Albert said smugly.

Jules lifted and looked around with his camera. **_What happened to all these stores, Father? Why are they all boarded up?_**

_It's because of Lone Pine Mall,_ Doc explained. _A mall is a big building with lots of stores inside, where people go to shop or just to hang out. When the mall opened up, more people went there than came here. Thus, most of these shops either simply went out of business or relocated to the mall._ Doc thought back to the 1950s, when the town square had been a bustling center of commerce. _Things have changed a lot here over the years -- and they'll continue to change as more people are born here and move here. By 2015, both the town square _and_ the mall will be doing a thriving business._

**_Interesting._** Jules glanced at Doc. **_Will we get to visit this mall at some point?_**

_Probably -- I shop there whenever I need new clothes._ He patted the tentacle. _At some point in the future, I'll try to give you the complete tour of Hill Valley. Okay?_

**_Okay._** Jules scanned their surroundings again. **_There is a person approaching, Father. He appears to be in his late 40s, heavyset, and in very ragged clothes._**

_Our local bum,_ Doc acknowledged. _We'd best not excite him. Go into that alleyway before he spots us._

The tentacles obeyed, carrying Doc into a space between the bike shop and "The Third Eye." Doc watched as Red stumbled into the square and collapsed on a bench. _He's definitely been hitting the bottle again,_ Doc thought sadly. _Seeing him makes me glad I can't tolerate alcohol._

_**Us too.**_

Doc sighed, idly glanced around the alley -- then had a thought. _Kids, do you think you could scale the left wall?_

_**97 percent certain.**_

_Good. Take me up._

The tentacles obeyed, firmly embedding their pincers in the brick wall. Little chips of brick fell away as they climbed, carrying Doc with them. **_This is fun!_ **Tommy said happily. Doc smiled.

They reached the top in a matter of minutes. Doc took a deep breath as he gazed down at Hill Valley. "Great Scott," he said. "This is so amazing. Such a thrill."

The tentacles appeared to agree, setting him down on the roof in order to get their own look around. **_It almost looks like a painting,_** Verne noted, peering down at the square. **_The moonlight makes interesting shadows._**

**_I wonder how high up we are,_** Albert said, glancing at the other rooftops.

Jules made some quick calculations. **_I estimate that we are no higher than 35 feet. This building isn't particularly tall._**

_It's tall enough,_ Doc thought, feeling a touch of vertigo as he looked over the edge.

**_What should we do now, Father?_** Tommy asked excitedly. **_Can we run over the rooftops?_**

Doc considered that. It did sound like fun. . . . _What's the risk of me falling?_

**_Less than one percent,_** Jules assured him. **_We will be very careful not to let anything happen to you._**

Doc grinned. _Then let's do it._

The tentacles seemed to grin as well, then elevated Doc again and set off. The air rushed past Doc's face as they built up speed, making his hair fan out behind him. Doc got a pleasant thrill up his spine as they zoomed along. "This is like flying!" he laughed aloud, spreading his arms like wings.

They soon encountered the end of the roof tops. The tentacles slowed down a little and climbed back down to the street. Doc took some deep breaths, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "That was incredible! How fast were we going?"

**_Approximately 30 miles per hour,_** Jules reported.

Tommy rubbed up against him, squeaking happily. **_We're glad you enjoyed that, Father._**

_How could I not? I should rent us out as an amusement park ride._ The tentacles buzzed with laughter. _What should we do next?_

**_Can we climb up the Clock Tower?_** Verne asked. **_I want to get a closer look at those gargoyles._**

**_I don't know,_** Albert replied, a worried note in his voice. **_We don't want to cause Father unnecessary stress. We know from his memories about the time he nearly fell from the Tower in 1955._** The tentacle turned to look at him. **_Would you be comfortable going up there, Father?_**

Doc looked up at the old, stopped clock. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how to answer Albert's question. On the one hand, he still remembered clearly how scared he had been on November 12th, 1955, when he had nearly fallen to his death because of the weak concrete in the ledge. On the other hand, that event had been thirty years ago -- the terror of that day wasn't as intense as it had been. Plus, with his arms here. . . . _Still less than a one percent chance of falling?_ he asked. Jules nodded. _All right. Beam me up, Scotty._

**_Scotty? Who's Scotty?_** Tommy asked, looking around in confusion. **_Is the bum Scotty? How will he beam you up?_**

**_Father's using another human expression, you idiot,_ **Jules said derisively.

**_I am not an idiot! My AI is the same as yours! _**Tommy protested, curling into a strike position.

_**No, it isn't. Father obviously put more work into me. He must love me better.**_

**_No he doesn't! He loves me better!_ **The two tentacles began attacking each other, yelling insults. Verne and Albert watched in amazement.

"Boys! Boys, stop it!" Doc yelled, forcibly separating the two. "Behave or else!" The two tentacles sank down into a sulk.

**_I don't think you spent enough time on either of them,_ **Albert commented.

"Don't you start."

**Do_ you have a favorite among us, Father?_ **Verne inquired, sounding worried.

"No! I designed you all equally! You're all the same in my eyes!" Doc glared between Jules and Tommy. "Now I want you two to apologize to each other."

Jules lifted reluctantly. **_I'm sorry, Tommy. You're not an idiot._**

**_I'm sorry too, Jules._** They shook pincers.

"There, thank you. Now are we going to climb the Clock Tower or not?"

In response, Jules and Verne embedded their claws firmly in the brick. Doc smiled. "Just be a little more careful climbing this one. It _is_ our local monument."

**_We will, Father. Hang on._ **They carried him up, doing their best to cause a minimum of damage to the bricks. Even with the extra caution, they reached the top in a matter of moments. Tommy and Albert anchored Doc to the pointed roof, while Jules and Verne explored. **_Are you feeling all right, Father?_** Verne asked, looking back at him.

"Fine," Doc smiled. Although he was still a bit frightened, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as he thought it would be. _I bet the adrenaline rush from trying out the arms is overwhelming my residual fearful memories. Fine with me._

**_We're glad to help, _**Tommy joked.

**_This place is very beautiful,_ **Verne commented, looking down on the square.

_You wouldn't think so in the daytime. Then this place is filled with cars and people going to the courthouse and to what shops are still open. Truth be told, I miss the park that used to be here. You could lounge on the grass and people-watch for hours. _Doc sighed. _I'm all for social progress, but it can have some rather depressing side effects._

Jules and Verne clacked their pincers sympathetically. **_We understand, Father. Human society is very strange to us. We still don't understand why some people seem to fear you. You are intelligent, kind, loyal, and brave. People should respect you._**

_Some do,_ Doc said. _Within the scientific community, there are those who consider my theories genius. But you have to understand, most humans instinctually fear that which is different. It's most likely some sort of old survival mechanism that's stayed with us throughout our evolution. People don't like me because I don't act like they do. I dress unusually, I wear my hair in an unconventional style -- for someone my age, at any rate -- I generally prefer inventing to socializing --_

**_And now you have four metal tentacles welded to your back, _**Albert finished dully.

**_Are we a burden to you, Father?_** Jules asked nervously.

_No! I'd much rather have you four and toil in obscurity then be rich and famous but alone._ Doc stroked Jules's claw. _When you four first called me "Father" -- it was a shock, yes, but it was also, in a way, a dream come true for me. I always wanted a family of my own._

**_You wanted a human family,_** Albert argued. **_Not us._**

_I was expecting to have a human family, yes,_ Doc conceded. _But that doesn't mean that I don't love you four as my children._ Doc sat down and tried to put his arms around the tentacles. _You are my sons now. And nothing's ever going to change that._

**_Really?_ **they chorused, coming into his embrace.

_Really._

Sunday, February 2nd, 1986

Hill Valley

6:04 A.M.

_**Ooooooo. . . .**_

Doc chuckled as his tentacles marveled at the sunrise. They had been up all night testing their limitations and exploring the town. The tentacles had openly goggled at every new thing they had seen, bombarding him with questions throughout. It was like seeing Hill Valley for the first time all over again. They were currently perched on the edge of the roof of one of the local apartment buildings.

**_Look at all the pretty colors, Father!_** Verne exclaimed. **_There's pink and purple and blue and red. . . ._**

**_This was fun,_ **Tommy said, nodding his claw. **_I'm glad you thought of this, Father._**

_Metoo._Doc stifled a yawn.

**_Are you tired, Father? _**Jules inquired.

**_We _have_ been up all night, _**Albert pointed out. **_Naturally Father is tired. And with the coming of the sun, he won't be able to see either. We should go home._**

_Good idea,_ Doc nodded, standing up. _Where is home, though?_

The arms began making calculations and mentally retracing their steps. Doc waited patiently, taking the time to admire the sunrise before the light got too painful. Finally Jules said, **_We believe that home --_**

Suddenly, an ear-splitting shriek filled the air behind them. Doc nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. _Great Scott! What the -- _he thought, turning around.

Something hard and thin collided with his head. "Pervert! How dare you!"

"Ow! Ow!" Doc cried, trying to shield his head. Some old lady, apparently an early riser intent on putting out her laundry, was attacking him with her umbrella. _Why is she doing this! Can't she see -- oh, no, she _can't_ see,_ he thought, noticing the woman was squinting rather severely. _She must need glasses. Damn it!_

The tentacles were similarly confused. **_Who is she? What is she doing? What's a pervert?_**

**_She's hitting Father!_** Albert said indignantly, trying to grab the umbrella. **_Stop that, you old bat!_**

The old lady eluded his grasp. "In all my years," she spat, finally getting out her glasses, "I have never--"

She stopped dead as she got her first good look at Doc and his kids. Doc smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to bother you. We were just going," he said, backing up.

The woman screamed. Startled once again, Doc lost his footing and fell. The tentacles immediately embedded themselves as firmly as they could into the brick. Doc halted at a 45-degree angle, breathing hard. **_Are you all right?_** they all asked.

_Fine, but make tracks out of here!_ Doc thought frantically, afraid the lady would either keel over or call the police. The tentacles obeyed, pounding their way down the building and up the street an a fantastic speed. The lady's screams receded into the distance. Doc rubbed his head. "Well, there's a way to greet the morning."

_**We're sorry, Father. We didn't see her there.**_

_It's all right, I didn't either. And she didn't hit me that hard, thankfully. I doubt I'll even have a bruise._ He yawned loudly. The adrenaline rush sparked by the attack was wearing off, making him feel even more exhausted than before. _Do you four know the way home?_

_**Yes, Father. It's to our southeast.**_

_Good. Just keep going._

Sunday, February 2nd

8:56 A.M.

"Hey Doc?"

Marty pushed the front door of Doc's house open. Einy padded up to greet him, followed by Verne. "Hey guys," Marty said, giving them each a pat. "Where's the Doc?"

Verne pointed to Doc's bed. Marty saw that the scientist was lying face-down on it, insensible to the world. "Late night last night?" Verne nodded. "I guess you got up to inventing and lost track of time."

To his surprise, Verne shook his claw while the other tentacles came over to join them. "No? Then what were you doing?"

For a moment, the tentacles seemed unsure on how to explain. Then Jules appeared to get a brainstorm. He dragged over Doc's blackboard, picked up the chalk, and began writing. Verne grabbed another piece of chalk and did illustrations. **_"Father took us out for a test run. We explored Hill Valley while ascertaining the limits of our abilities."_**

"Oh. Have fun?"

**"_Up until the end, yes. Some woman attacked Father with an 'umbrella' and called him a pervert." _**Jules paused for a moment. **_"What's a pervert? Father fell asleep before we could ask him."_**

Marty somehow made his laugh sound like a cough. "A pervert is someone who spies on people when they don't want to be seen -- like when they're naked and stuff."

Tommy snatched up some chalk. **_"We weren't doing anything like that!"_** he wrote indignantly, the chalk squeaking. Einstein barked at it.

"I know you weren't. I was just saying that's what that woman _thought_ you were doing. I mean, strange guy with four metal tentacles on your roof?"

**"_We concede the point,"_** Jules wrote. **_"Although it seems like she didn't notice us at first. She needed glasses, like Father."_** The tentacles drooped. **_"She screamed when she saw us."_**

Marty sighed, feeling bad for them -- and rather amazed at all the expressions they could pull off. "I'm sorry to hear that, but you gotta expect people to be startled by you. Even Doc was pretty shocked at first, remember?"

**"_We do. But it still hurts. Everyone just assumes that we're going to be evil. Why?"_**

"Hollywood, I guess," Marty admitted. "Most movies don't show robots as happy-go-lucky. Just last year, we had a movie called The Terminator come out, that was about robots who were trying to kill all humans. I don't know why we're wired like that, though."

**"_Did you think that we would be evil?"_**

Marty smiled. "I was kinda nervous at first, but I knew everything would be okay. Doc wouldn't build something that was evil." Marty patted Albert, who was hovering next to him. "And you guys forget, you helped save my life and Doc's, sentient or not. There's no way I could think you were evil after that."

**"_We appreciate it,"_** Jules wrote as the other tentacles cuddled up to Marty.

There was a honk from outside. Marty quickly checked his watch. "I'd better get going. The Pinheads and I have got a meeting with the owner of Future Fest -- he was pretty impressed with our January gig, and he wants to book us again -- and they're all catching a ride with me. I'll probably see you all this afternoon. Tell Doc I said hi, and keep your -- pincers -- crossed for us."

The tentacles nodded, and briefly wrapped Marty in a "hug." Marty gave them all some final pats and jogged out the door. Albert closed it behind him, and the tentacles rejoined their father on the bed.


	9. Save The Day

Chapter 9

Tuesday, February 4th, 1986

Hill Valley

1:04 P.M.

It was two days later when Doc and the tentacles were forced to make a second outing. Doc was fixing some timing issues with his breakfast maker when he sent Jules to get him a drink. Jules returned with a bottle of Pepsi and some news. **_We appear to be running out of food products, Father. The fridge seems to be at no more than 15 percentof its capacity._**

Doc frowned as he processed this. _I see. Well, I haven't had a chance to restock it since late January, when --_ He shuddered. _You four know. I'm probably low on food in general._

Albert checked the pantry for him to make sure. **_The cupboards are better stocked, but not by much,_ **he reported. **_I estimate they're at 30 percent capacity._**

_I see. Then I guess we're going shopping as soon as I'm done here._

**_At the mall?_ **Tommy asked curiously, handing him a screwdriver.

_Nope, at the local ShopNSave. The mall doesn't carry groceries._

**_Oh. _**Tommy looked sad for a moment, but quickly perked up.**_ At least we get to go out. Will we be carrying you again, Father?_**

Doc chewed it over for a moment, looking out the window. It was a bright sunny day, and he could hear quite a bit of traffic going up and down his street. Traveling by tentacle in the dead of the night was one thing, but doing it in broad daylight was another. What if he incited mass panic?

_Then again, it is an awfully long way to walk. . . . And I'm sure everyone has already seen me on the news and such. All right, you can carry me there. _The tentacles squeaked happily and redoubled their efforts on the machine.

A few minutes later, it was done. Doc set the components back in place and tested it. Everything ran perfectly. Doc smiled. "We did good, kids."

The tentacles nodded. Tommy grabbed Doc's coat for him, eager to get outside. After a moment of struggle, Doc slipped it on. "We'll be back in a little while, Einstein," Doc said, scratching his dog's head. "You be good now."

Einstein wuffed, then went over to his doggy bed and lay down. "Good boy. We'll see you shortly." Doc grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

There were a lot of cars in the driveway he shared with Burger King, he noted as the tentacles opened the gate for him. The fast food restaurant was doing a booming business. Unfortunately, that meant a lot more people gawking at him. Doc felt a little self-conscious as he heard the first cry of "Look! It's Dr. Octopus!"

**_Why do they always make such a big fuss?_** Albert wondered, looking around at the gathering crowd. **_Are we really _that_ weird?_**

_It's the fame factor,_ Doc explained. _Dr. Octopus is a very well-known comic book character. I don' think anyone ever suspected he'd make the shift from fantasy to reality._

**_I don't like it,_** Verne admitted, also looking at the crowd. **_All that talk about us being evil will start up again. It's almost like they _want_ us to be evil._**

_What can I tell you? Humans are very strange creatures._

_**That we well know, Father. That we well know.**_

"Dr. Octopus!"

"Don't get too close!"

"Wow, look at those tentacles!"

"He must be off to rob the bank."

"Actually, I'm going to go buy groceries," Doc sighed, as the tentacles squeaked their displeasure.

"And you'll buy them with the money you get from robbing the bank, right?"

Doc rolled his eyes. _Comedians. . . . Come on, kids, why don't we put some distance between ourselves and these gawkers?_

Obligingly, the tentacles embedded their claws in the concrete and elevated Doc. The crowd quickly parted as they set off in the direction of the ShopNSave. "Don't forget to rob the bank!" the comedian called after them. Doc somehow fought off the urge to flip him the bird.

It only took Doc and the tentacles ten minutes to reach the grocery store. The tentacles put him down in the parking lot, much to the excitement of the shoppers. Doc ignored their yells and started walking to the entrance. The tentacles, hoping to make everyone calm down, started to slide under his coat. _Don't bother,_ Doc told them a bit sadly. _They'll act like this whether they can see you or not. I don't want you to have to hide. _The tentacles nodded and stayed out.

Doc grabbed a cart on his way in and paused near the entrance. _What _was _in my fridge?_ he asked Jules.

**_Half a gallon of milk, seven carrots, two stalks of celery, a package of baloney, a quarter-full jar of mayonnaise, a full bottle of ketchup, a carton of juice, and a wedge of cheese,_ **Jules reported.

**_In the pantry I found seven cans of dog food, a six-pack of Ramen noodle soup, and various canned foods,_** Albert added.

_Thank you. We'll start in the produce aisle and go from there._ Doc steered his cart into the maze of fresh vegetables and fruit. _Anything in particular you four want me to get?_

**_We like what you like,_** Verne said. **_We experience all flavors through you, after all._**

_You have no preferences at all?_

_**Well -- I did like bananas. . . .**_

_All right then, grab some. I could always use some more fruit in my diet._ Verne did so, causing a few startled squeals from the other shoppers. Doc ignored them. _Anybody else have a preference?_

**_Can I get some tomatoes?_** Tommy asked.

_Okay -- get three. And make sure they're bright red and firm. Jules, could you grab a package of lettuce?_

**_Of course._** Jules made his way over to the shelves. A nearby shopper -- a rather rotund blond woman -- eyed him suspiciously. Jules nodded to her and picked up a package of lettuce --

Only to have it snatched out of his pincers by the woman. "I want this, freak," she snapped, haughtily tossing it into her cart. Jules just stared, frozen by surprise.

Albert hissed. **_What a rude woman!_**

_I know,_ Doc thought, selecting some apples. _Maybe she thinks I can't hear her through you._

**_Still no reason to act like that,_ **Albert said, doing his best to glare at her.

Tommy returned with a bag of fresh red tomatoes. **_Will these do, Father?_**

_Perfect,_ Doc grinned, taking the bag. Tommy clacked his pincers happily as Jules grabbed another package of lettuce and quickly retracted away from the nasty shopper. _Okay, now I need one of you to grab some peppers. . . ._

They finished the produce and deli sections pretty quickly in this manner, and moved onto the aisles of prepackaged food. The tentacles did the best to stay out of the way of the other shoppers, who stopped and gawked openly. **_Why don't they just put us in the zoo and be done with it?_** Albert asked darkly as they walked into aisle seven.

_Don't let it get to you,_ Doc said. _There's really nothing we can do about it._ He glanced around at the rows of chips and cookies. _We really don't need anything from here. Let's move on._

Something suddenly poked him in the back. Puzzled. Doc turned to see Verne holding a bag of Doritos. _I said no._

_**But you love Doritos! Marty brought them all the time when we were in the hospital!**_

**_And cookies!_ **Tommy added, snatching up a package of Oreos.

_We don't need any junk food!_

But it was too late. The tentacles had realized where they were, and they were on a mission to fill his cart up with snacks. **_Look at these, Father! Says "filled with real chocolate chunks!"_**

**_We could get a different _kind_ of Dorito if you want. There's lots of flavors._**

_**These say "low-fat," would they be acceptable?**_

_**Or we could try a different kind of chip -- Lays, Pringles. . . .**_

_**No! We need cookies, not chips! Or candy! We like candy!**_

_**Yeah, candy! Can we get a package of 5th Avenues?**_

_**Or something with caramel?**_

"Enough!" Doc yelled, causing the tentacles to start in surprise. "We do not need any junk food!"

_**But Fa-therrrrr. . . .**_

"Put it all back," Doc said firmly. The tentacles sullenly returned the foodstuffs to their proper places. Doc noticed a woman nearby staring at them, while her own child tried to sneak some cookies into the cart. Doc shrugged and grinned weakly. "Kids. . . ."

The mother glanced at her own child and returned the gesture. "Matthew, put those away."

"I did put them away, Mommy," Matthew replied, the paragon of innocence.

"I meant on the shelf," the mother sighed, grabbing the package. Having a thought, Doc turned just in time to see Tommy attempting the same trick. The tentacle slumped. **_Damn it._**

**_Why can't we have some junk food?_** Albert whined. **_We know you like it!_**

**_One package won't hurt,_** Jules nodded.

_Yes, but if it was up to you, we'd buy nothing else. Let's finish the healthy shopping, _then_ we can see about some treats._ Doc led them into the next aisle.

They finished the rest of their shopping without incident, the tentacles sulking a little over Doc's insistence on health. They perked up, however, when Doc entered the frozen foods section. **_Can we get some ice cream, Father?_**

_That's actually one aisle over, but yes, we can,_ Doc thought back, picking out some frozen vegetables. _And after that we can go back to your favorite aisle._

_**Goodie.**_

Tommy suddenly spotted something on an end display. **_Hey, these look good! Can we have some of these, Father?_ **he asked eagerly, presenting a package for inspection.

Doc snorted in laughter. _Um -- Tommy -- those are Milkbones. That's _dog_ food. But grab a package anyway, Einstein loves them._ Tommy did so, looking a little embarrassed. **_I told you his AI isn't as advanced,_** Jules said smugly.

_Don't start again,_ Doc warned. _Or we'll leave with just what I have in the cart now._

**_You know, you can't really stop us from grabbing what we like,_** Albert commented.

_I can if I tie your pincers together with some steel rope._

**_You don't have any steel rope,_** Albert accused, although not without a note of uncertainty in his voice.

_Maybe not now, but it would be very easy to obtain some. Behave, all of you._

**_We will, Father,_** they promised, obviously disturbed by the idea of having their movement limited. Doc mentally filed it away as future reference for punishments. **_Can we get ice cream now?_**

_Yes, yes, we can get ice cream now._ Doc wheeled his cart into the proper aisle. The tentacles gaped for a few moments at all the brands and flavors. **_Wow. And we have to pick just one? Why can't we get one of each?_**

_Where do you think I would put it all?_ Doc thought, amazed.

**_There _must_ be room in the freezer! We can get more than one flavor! Look, we can get Peanut Butter Chunk, Rocky Road, Chocolate Chip, French Silk --_**

_Stop right there! We are getting _ONE_ carton of ice cream. And if you keep on like this, we'll skip the junk food aisle completely._

**_All right, all right._** The tentacles discussed it among themselves for a bit, then finally settled on a carton of Rocky Road. A quick detour back to the junk food aisle to pick up some Doritos and a small bag of Chips Ahoy, and they were ready to check out. Doc pushed his cart into one of the lines. The people in front of him uneasily glanced at his tentacles and moved. Doc looked after them, shrugged, and moved up.

Jules nudged his shoulder. **_Father, look. There's that mean woman who took our lettuce._**

Doc glanced over. Sure enough, there she was, one line over. She noticed him looking, gave a disgusted sniff, and put her nose in the air. **_What is her _problem** Albert wondered, hissing softly. **_Nobody _else_ has reacted like _that_ to us._**

_I get the feeling she acts like that to _anyone_ she doesn't approve of, not just us,_ Doc thought, annoyed. _Just try to ignore her._

The woman reached her line's cashier. "And how are you today, ma'am?" the man said politely, starting to ring her in.

"I'd be much better if _that_ wasn't in the store," the woman said haughtily, pointing directly at Doc.

That. Not they -- although, really, that was a long shot even on a good day. Not he. _That._ Doc felt a surge of anger. He was no more than a _thing_ in this mystery-woman's eyes? The tentacles rose up, hissing softly.

The cashier glanced between them, obviously feeling rather ill at ease. "Well, ma'am, he's still welcome to shop here. He hasn't done anything to hurt anyone."

"I don't care. Something like him shouldn't be allowed out in public. If my son had had his way, those ghastly tentacles would be in the garbage bin."

The hissing became louder, prompting a few nervous looks. Doc soothed them, then turned to the woman. "These 'ghastly tentacles' happen to be my pride and joy," he said coldly. "And if you're talking about what happened in the hospital, they were merely defending themselves. They didn't want to die."

"Nonsense. They're just machines. They can't think."

**_We can too!_** Tommy yelled, curling over Doc's shoulder and chattering at her. The other tentacles nodded, glaring at her with their camera eyes.

"_You_ didn't want them cut off," the woman continued, doing her best to ignore them. "You wanted to be able to terrorize all of us. You're just bitter because you're the town freak."

**She's_ just bitter because she's fat and ugly,_** Albert snapped.

Doc was sorely tempted to state Albert's sentiments out loud. But he decided to go with a different tactic. "If I'm so dangerous, why insult me when I can hear you? Aren't you afraid of what I might do to you?"

This actually seemed to get through to the woman. She eyed his tentacles a little more nervously. "So now you're threatening me, like you threatened my Stanley?"

"Stanley?"

"That intern you attacked -- Stanley Carlyle. I'm his mother."

Doc still didn't recognize the name. The tentacles did, however, and provided him with some footage their cameras had captured. "He came after them with a chainsaw!" Doc said as he watched their memories. "The only doctor to do so, I might add."

"He was the only doctor intelligent enough to see that those things needed to come off, no matter what the cost." The woman turned her back on him. "Ring these up and make it snappy. I want to get out of here as soon as possible."

Glaring, Doc turned back to his own line. _Disgusting bint._

**_What right does she have to talk about us like that?_** Verne demanded. **_We haven't done anything to her!_**

**She_ stole _our_ lettuce,_** Tommy added.

**_And we didn't even touch her son,_** Jules agreed. **_He persisted in being obstinate, so we had Albert give him fair warning of what we might be forced to do. He followed it, and we left him alone._**

**_That may be true, but only we know it is,_** Albert said, depressed. **_Most of these shoppers would probably agree with Stanley's mother. Nobody understands._**

_Marty does,_ Doc said.

_**No he doesn't. Not really. He can't hear us like you can. He may not believe we're truly alive.**_

**_Give him credit for not abandoning Father, Albert,_** Jules argued. **_He's willing to accept all of us, and to not doubt Father's word._**

**_That's true._** Albert perked a little. **_Maybe things aren't as grim after all._**

_They usually aren't,_ Doc assured him as they reached their cashier. "Hi, how are you?"

"I'm good sir, and you?"

"Fine." Doc began unloading his cart, the tentacles assisting (and doing their best to move the junk food to the front of the line). The cashier watched them as she scanned in items. "Well, they must be useful."

"They are," Doc grinned. "The best assistants you could ask for." The tentacles squeaked happily.

"And they don't get in the way or anything like that?"

"No, not really. They're very adaptable."

"Er -- Dr. Brown? Why is this one looking at me?" The bagger pointed to Verne, who had come over to investigate.

"He wants to know if he can help," Doc said as Verne nodded.

"Help?" The bagger looked at Verne. "Well, I guess it -- he -- could put the bags in the cart." He handed a bag to Verne, who did precisely as asked. "That's odd that -- he -- would want to help."

"They were _built_ to assist people. And they love poking their pincers into things. They're a lot like small children."

As if to prove his point, Tommy noticed the gum and candy racks. **_Oooh! Buy us some candy!_**

"I already bought you Doritos and Chips Ahoy! Give it a rest!"

**_Come on, just one Fifth Avenue bar? Please?_** Doc could swear the tentacle was giving him puppy eyes.

"Okay, okay." Tommy gleefully picked up a bar and put it on the belt. "But that's it for junk food," Doc added sternly.

"It never is, a faceless voice commented from another line. "Believe me, I know."

Doc and the tentacles had to laugh at that. "Your total is $110.42," the cashier said, watching the tentacles again. "Uh -- this is going to sound weird, but -- can I touch one?"

Jules presented himself for a pat. "Sure. They're rather affectionate, actually. Go ahead." The cashier grinned and stroked Jules for a minute. "Cool," she said.

Jules buzzed happily. **_I like her._**

_So do I. It's nice to see someone who's interested in you, as opposed to merely scared._ Doc happily paid up, waited for Verne and the bagger to finish with the cart, then headed out, followed by the stares of his fellow consumers. "Have a nice day now!" he yelled back to the cashier.

"Thank you sir, you too!"

The tentacles loaded themselves with bags as Doc returned the cart to its proper place. **_Would you prefer us to remain free so we can carry you back home?_** Albert asked, indicating himself and Tommy.

_No, that's all right. I might as well use my own two feet. It's a pretty nice day out, after all._ Albert and Tommy nodded and grabbed some more bags.

As they left the parking lot and started down the main road, Doc noticed a little boy staring at him. He and his mother had also just left the grocery store, judging by the bags they carried. Doc frowned as he observed the child through Albert's camera link. He seemed awfully familiar. . . .

Verne suddenly jerked up. **_What's that noise?_**

_What's what noise?_ Doc asked, confused. _I don't hear anything._

**_It's coming from further down the street -- must be out of the range of your hearing._ **Verne increased his audio input so Doc could hear too. The faint but growing wail of sirens filled Doc's ears. _That's either a police car or an ambulance,_ he throught, frowning. _There must be an emergency somewhere. Don't wander into the road to see, though -- we don't want to obstruct them._

_**Understood, Father.**_

As the sirens drew nearer, more and more people on the sidewalk stopped to listen and wonder. The little boy following them tugged on his mother's dress. "Is there a fire somewhere, Mommy?"

"I don't know," the woman admitted, sounding rather concerned. "There might be."

"I wanna see the fire truck," the boy announced, wandering to the edge of the road.

"Daniel, come back here!" The woman tried to go and retrieve her son, but a crowd had formed to watch for the source of the sirens, blocking her access.

It also blocked Doc's way home. Not feeling like fighting the crowd, Doc turned to watch as well. The tentacles were getting very curious about the noise, and frankly, so was he. There seemed to be a lot of sirens for whatever was happening. . . .

The scene finally reached the main road. Now Doc could see that it was a high-speed chase between a beat-up Datsun and four police cars. The cars were weaving all over the road, forcing innocent motorists to pull over and get out of the way. "Tch," Doc muttered. "A high speed chase on residential streets? How irresponsible."

As if to proved his point, as the Datsun and the cruisers made another sharp turn, one of the officers lost control of his car. It screeched along the opposite sidewalk for a moment, watched closely by the crowd. Then, suddenly, it managed to hit something -- Doc couldn't see what, even with the tentacles -- at just the right angle to become airborne. The crowd screamed and ran as the cruiser came flying towards them.

Doc felt a sudden thrill of horror as the car soared through the air. Doing a quick trajectory analysis, he calculated that the car would land --

Right where the little boy still stood watching! _Great Scott! Go! Help him!_

Thought became deed. The tentacles shed their grocery bags and sprang into action. Tommy shot toward the boy, whipping his inner tentacle around the child's waist and pulling him safely into his claw. Jules and Verne arched upward and grabbed the police car, stopping it in midair. Inside, Doc could see that the policeman was frightened but alive. He sighed in relief as Tommy retracted toward him, carrying the boy. _Good work, you four. But where's Albert?_

Albert slithered out from behind him, loaded down with the bags the others had shed. **_Someone had to take them,_** he said almost sheepishly. **_My brothers had the situation handled. And this way we didn't lose any groceries._**

Doc chuckled. _Very true. Good job, Albert._ He directed his attention back to the child Tommy held. "Are you all right, kid?"

The boy nodded, looking at the tentacles with interest. "You're the moon car man. Are they to help you get to the moon?"

Doc abruptly realized where he had seen the child before. It was none other than Daniel, the little boy he had met the day this whole mess had started. Doc grinned at him while the tentacles made puzzled noises. "No, they're just my assistants."

"They're cool."

"Thank you."

"Daniel! DANIEL!"

Daniel's mother came roaring through the crowd, her eyes wide and terrified. Jules and Verne gently put the police car down as Tommy unwrapped his tentacle from around Daniel. "Here I am, Mommy!" Daniel called, waving.

"Danny! Oh, Daniel, my little darling," the mother said, scooping Daniel into her arms. "Oh, sweetie, are you okay? This is why you should never wander away from Mommy. You could have been killed!" She covered him with kisses. Tommy made a few gagging noises, earning himself a look from Doc.

"I'm okay, Mommy," Daniel said, squirming a little under the barrage of affection. "The moon-man saved me. I'm sorry for going away."

"The moon--man--"

Daniel's mother finally seemed to remember that Doc was there. She stared at him, apparently trying to reconcile her previous image of him with the fact that he had just saved her child's life. The rest of the crowd stared as well, apparently amazed that he, as "Dr. Octopus," wasn't automatically evil. Doc began to feel uncomfortable. _I wish someone would say something. I don't think it's that incredible that I still feel compassion._

**_It's like, even now, they expect us to attack someone,_** Verne said, fidgeting.

Finally, Daniel's mother spoke. "T-thank you," she said, starting to smile. "Thank you so much."

"You're quite welcome," Doc replied, feeling relieved she hadn't tried to twist things to put the blame on him. She nodded and pushed her way back through the crowd, still holding tightly to Daniel. The little boy waved cheerfully at them. Doc waved back, as did the three free tentacles.

Doc's attention then shifted to the police officer, climbing out of his car. "Are you all right, sir?"

The officer nodded, looking shaken. "Thanks. Nice catch." Reaching for his radio, he added, "I'd better call in so they know I'm all right. Thanks again."

"Good idea." Doc turned back to the gawking crowd. "Well, I hope your families enjoy the story. I'll be heading home now, if you don't mind." Jules, Verne, and Tommy elevated him and took him away, the crowd parting to let him pass.

As he left, a young man in a dark brown jacket and a cap reading "S.A." turned to his neighbor. "Who was that?"

"Not from around here, are you?" the man replied with a smirk. S.A. shook his head. "That was Dr. Brown. He's Hill Valley's local mad scientist."

"Wow. And he turned himself into Dr. Octopus?"

"Yup, although he claims it was an accident. He was kidnaped by Libyan terrorists too, and forced to work on a bomb -- apparently he sabotaged it, and something backfired -- it was all over the news."

"I see." S.A. looked thoughtful. "Do you know where I can find his address?"


	10. Scientific American Star

Chapter 10

Wednesday, February 5th, 1986

Hill Valley

2:42 P.M.

Knock knock knock.

Doc looked up from his book, frowning. The knock repeated itself. "I wonder who that could be," he muttered, half-rising from his chair. "Jules, could you get the door?"

Jules nodded and wound his way over. Standing in the doorway was a fairly young man with thick, curly red hair under an "S.A." cap. He was wearing a dark brown jacket and carrying a notepad. "Uh, hello," he greeted Jules, peering into his camera eye. "Dr. Brown?"

Doc fully got up and came over, frowning. "Yes, can I help you? If you're selling something, I don't want it."

The man smiled at him. "My name's Harry Parker, Dr. Brown. I'm a reporter with _Scientific American_."

Doc's eyes widened. "_Scientific American_?"

"Yup. I was on my way to interview an earthquake scientist in San Francisco, but unfortunately, that fell through. We stopped here to pick up food and fuel for the ride back, and I'm glad we did! I saw you in action yesterday. You were incredible."

"Thank you," Doc said, blushing a little as the tentacles chittered. "Although, really, the tentacles did all the work. I was just there."

"Well, good for them too. Those tentacles are the reason I'm here, Dr. Brown. I think you'd be a much better article than the earthquake scientist, and my editor agreed. I'd like to interview you for my magazine."

Doc felt like jumping for joy. _Great Scott! A chance to be in Scientific American? How can I say no? _"Of course! Come in, come in! _Scientific American _is one of my favorite magazines!"

"Great! Let me just get my photographer, Ronnie. Yo, Ronnie! We're in!" Harry yelled, walking back toward a van parked in the Burger King driveway.

Albert turned to Doc, clacking his pincers worriedly. **_Are you sure this is wise? We know the press can be tricky._**

_This is Scientific American. They won't try to be tricky -- they love this sort of thing. And we'll lay some ground rules right off the bat._ Doc clapped his hands, smiling brightly. _I haven't been this excited since I won my award for my theories in temporal physics. Our own article in Scientific American!_

**_It is rather exciting,_** Jules agreed, wriggling with anticipation.

Harry returned, trailing an older man with long grey hair tied into a ponytail. He was carrying a very expensive looking camera, which promptly caught the attention of the tentacles. "Ronnie, Dr. Brown. Dr. Brown, Ronnie Harris."

"Nice to meet you all," Ronnie said, keeping a firm grip on his camera as the tentacles examined it.

"Likewise. Now, before we begin, I just want to say that I don't want this article to have a negative slant against my kids. The tentacles are not evil beings, nor am I a madman. And I did _not_ murder those Libyan terrorists that kidnaped me. The same accident that fused me to the arms killed them." He gave them a hard stare. "I'm _not_ a Doc Ock clone."

Harry nodded seriously. "Message received and understood, Dr. Brown. I'll do my best to be objective."

Doc relaxed. "Thank you. Most of the reporters we've met seemed determined to paint me and the kids as utterly evil."

Ronnie gave him an odd look. "You call them your kids?"

"They call me Father. The tentacles aren't mere extensions of my own body. They're sentient beings."

"Really? That's amazing. And kinda weird. No offense," Harry added hastily.

"None taken," Doc smiled. "We fully acknowledge that we're not what you would call an average family." The tentacles nodded and chirped.

"Did you design them to be sentient?" Harry asked, starting to jot down notes.

"No, I intended them to be like the original Dr. Octopus arms -- I originally had an inhibitor chip that limited their A.I. attached. The accident destroyed the chip and allowed them access to my higher brain functions. Look, why don't we start at the beginning. That way we can answer most of your questions in the most efficient way possible."

"Sounds good to me. Mind if we take a seat?"

"Not at all, make yourselves at home." Harry settled himself into a chair. After fiddling with his camera equipment, Ronnie did the same. "It all started in January, when I bought the latest copy of Spider-Man. . . ."

Wednesday, February 5th

3:15 P.M.

"And that's when I woke up to discover--"

A loud knock at the door caused Doc to break off. Both Harry and Ronnie blinked a little, startled at being taken out of the story. "Doc? Can I come in?"

Doc grinned. "My assistant, Marty McFly," he explained to his visitors. "Yes, come on in."

Marty opened the door, looking puzzled. "Hey. I saw the van outside -- are you busy with a repair job or something?" Noticing Ronnie and Harry, he added, "Are they the customers?"

"No, we're not here for a repair job. I'm Harry Parker, reporter for _Scientific American_. This is my cameraman, Ronnie Harris." Ronnie gave Marty a wave. "We're interviewing Dr. Brown for an article about his arms."

"Hey, that's great!"

"Isn't it?" Doc agreed. "I was just telling them about how the arms became sentient."

"It's fascinating stuff," Harry said, reviewing his notes. "After he's finished, would you mind giving us your thoughts, Mr. McFly? Dr. Brown here says that you were involved in a lot of this."

"No problem -- and please, call me Marty. When people say Mr. McFly, I look for my dad."

Ronnie suddenly snapped his fingers. "McFly! You're the son of George McFly, the sci-fi author! He writes some damn good stuff."

"So everybody tells me," Marty chuckled as the tentacles buzzed. "So, Doc, where were you?"

"When I revived in the hospital. Anyway, I woke up to a rather splitting headache. . . ."

Doc finished his narrative after a half-hour, Harry writing down notes at a frantic pace. Marty added in his own thoughts on the whole situation, although he admitted he didn't see what use they would be in the article. "You never know," Harry told him. "People love adventure stories -- and of course your famous name will help sell the thing to my editor. Now, Dr. Brown, you said you designed the arms as improvements on the original Doc Ock ones. Can we see the plans?"

"Of course," Doc said. "Jules, could you get them? They should be in my desk." Jules chittered and went to look.

Ronnie shook his head. "Boy. I bet the reporters were all over you both after all this."

"Him more than me," Marty nodded. "Although I had to beat off my fair share for a couple of days."

"At least nobody starts gawking the instant you step outside," Doc said a bit bitterly. The tentacles nodded, Albert making some very derisive sounds. "Oh, Albert, that wasn't nice."

Harry frowned. "Just out of curiosity, what do they sound like when they're talking to you?"

"Well, they're all clearly robotic, but they don't all sound the same. Albert's voice has a lower pitch than all the others, for example. And the voice seems to fit the personality -- Jules is the most analytical of the four, so his tone is often clinical." Doc chuckled. "If they're all speaking at once, it's almost like an odd barbershop quartet."

Jules returned with a stack of papers. "Thanks Jules. Here we are, gentlemen. The plans that started it all."

Harry and Ronnie eagerly took the papers and looked them over. Even Marty, who'd seen them before, craned his head to get a peek. "Boy, you sure don't spare anything with the detail," Ronnie commented.

"I'm meticulous," Doc said, blushing while Marty smirked. "Besides, it's better to be overly detailed than not detailed at all. Much easier to pare down a design than to add onto it. Most of the time."

"Ahh, yeah."

Doc suddenly had a thought. _Jules, did you take_ all_ of my plans?_

_**Just the ones in the open drawer. I figured that the other one was locked for a reason.**_

Doc relaxed. _Good. I keep the plans that mention time travel in the locked drawer._

**_Father, why don't you tell people about the time machine?_** Verne asked with a chitter. **_I'm sure people would stop saying that you're crazy when you reveal such an incredible invention. You'd be famous in a good way. Don't you want that?_**

_Sure, who doesn't? But I don't know if the world is ready to handle time travel yet. Traveling through the fourth dimension is extremely dangerous. One wrong move, and you could create a paradox that means the end of the space-time continuum and the world._ The tentacles shuddered and pulled closer to him. _Don't worry, kids, Marty and I know to take precautions. I _might_ unveil the time machine sometime in the 21st century. We seem to have a better hold on things in that time than in this. Then again, you never know. . . ._

"Dr. Brown?"

Doc belatedly realized Harry was trying to get his attention. "Sorry. Having a conversation with them," he apologized. "What did you say?"

"I was asking what this diagram was for," Harry asked, passing over one of the blueprints.

Doc looked at it. "Oh. This is my plan for the inhibitor chip." He turned and showed them the empty socket. "The thing I told you exploded in the accident."

"Ah, yes, I see."

The tentacles hissed at the sheet of paper. "Come on, you weren't even sentient until after it exploded. You had no chance to be mad at it."

**_That's true,_** Jules admitted as he and his brothers stopped hissing. **_We still dislike it though. It represents being apart from you._**

"I supposed I can agree with that," Doc nodded, patting Jules. "I wouldn't want to be apart from you now either."

"You know, Harry, we could use some of these as illustrations in the article," Ronnie said, leafing through the pages. "Do you have a photocopier, Dr. Brown?"

"Not a whole one, I'm afraid. Just random parts."

"The library will let you copy anything for 10 cents a page," Marty informed them.

"Great, we can all drive on over."

Doc suddenly smirked. "Actually, I have a better idea. . . ."

Wednesday, February 5th

3:32 P.M.

"WOO-HOO!"

Doc couldn't help but laugh at Marty's enthusiasm. The teen was riding piggyback on Doc's back as they headed for the library via tentacle. Behind them, Harry and Ronnie followed in their van, Ronnie leaning out the window and snapping pictures as fast as he could. It was quite a sight, and plenty of people stopped to stare. Doc waved at them.

Marty was grinning from ear to ear. "This is so cool, Doc! This is beyond words cool!"

"We told you!" Doc said. "I could travel like this all day!"

**_If you'd _let_ us,_** Albert said a bit sarcastically.

_You have to understand, I don't want to get too dependent on you. What if, heaven forbid, something happened to you four, and I had to function on my own for a time? _

**_We won't let anything happen to us,_** Albert said firmly.

_Accidents do happen, kids._

_**We'll do our best to stay out of trouble. We want to be able to assist you and take care of you.**_

_I thought _I _was the father here?_

**_You're the father when it comes to not letting us eat junk food,_** Tommy informed him, making Doc giggle.

They finally reached their destination. Doc touched down on the library steps, making sure not to get in the way of any other patrons. Harry burst out of the _Scientific American_ van, eyes wide. "That was _great_, Dr. Brown! Simply fantastic! I can't believe how fast you were going! Marty, what was it like riding up there?"

"Heavy-duty," Marty grinned. "Doc's right when he says it feels like flying."

"And I actually was going fairly slow," Doc added with a small smirk. "Their maximum speed is 50 miles per hour."

"It's still incredible. Ronnie, you get some good shots?"

"A boatload," Ronnie said. "Before we go in, though, how about a few of you climbing up this fine building?"

"I'd like to ask permission, first," Doc said. "We don't want anyone slapping us with a lawsuit, after all."

"Good point," Harry nodded. "Copies first then."

They entered the library to a lot of shocked stares. The head librarian gaped for a second, then managed to collect herself. "Er -- can I help you?"

"We need to use the copy machine," Harry explained politely. "And we'd like your permission for him to climb up the side of the building."

"Pardon?"

"It's for a _Scientific American_ photoshoot," Ronnie said, holding up his camera. "We're doing an article on Dr. Brown and his arms."

"We promise to be careful," Doc said as the tentacles nodded and chirped. "The kids will do their best not to damage the building."

"Well, I can certainly let you use the copier -- climbing up the building is something else again. I'll talk to my boss -- if he says it's okay, then you can go ahead."

"Thank you, ma'am." The group proceeded to the copier. "Okay, how much change do we have?"

As Harry, Ronnie, and Marty counted up their change, three teenagers, two boys and a girl, ventured closer to Doc. "Man, those things are wicked," one of the boys said, adjusting his glasses. "Dr. Octopus is the best Spider-Man villain out there!"

"Nah, Green Goblin's cooler," the other boy said.

"No way! Doc Ock rocks! He could kick Gobby's ass anytime!"

"Nuh-uh, Gobby would toast him."

"Goblin's just a regular dude! Ock has two super-strong tentacles welded to him! Of _course_ he's going to win!"

"Regular guy! Goblin's got super strength, the Goblin Glider, and the pumpkin bombs! _Plus_ he's absolutely insane!"

"So's Ock! Look, who do _you_ think is better?" the bespectacled one suddenly asked Doc.

"Dude, what do you _think_ he's going to say?" the girl asked incredulously.

Doc smirked as the boy blushed. "Well, yes, it is pretty obvious I prefer Dr. Octopus, but I admit, Norman Osborn has his qualities. Although I think any fight of theirs would end up in a stalemate, as Spider-Man would take advantage of the chaos to bring them both in."

The three teenagers laughed. "Good point. So you're really going to climb up the buildings with those things?" the second boy asked.

The tentacles screeched. "He didn't mean anything by it," Doc said sternly. "Sorry about that -- they're a little sensitive about being called 'things.' And yes, I will be climbing up if we get permission."

The teens stared. "It's true? They do think?" Doc and the tentacles nodded in a tired way. "Holy crap. That's really cool."

The tentacles chattered happily. "They say thank you," Doc reported. "They _are_ getting an article on themselves, after all."

"We'll be sure to pick up the next issue of _Scientific American_," the girl promised. "I'd love to see how they work. I'm Melanie, by the way -- these two are Darryl--" the one with the glasses nodded "-- and John. We're all comic book fiends."

"So am I," Doc grinned.

"Hey, Doc, you got any quarters?" Marty called, prompting a few "shush" looks from the other patrons."

Doc pulled out his wallet and looked. "About a dollar's worth," he called back, handing the quarters to Verne. Verne extended his smaller pincers to get a better grip on the coins and handed them over to Marty. "Hey, neat! Where'd those come from?"

"I added them in," Doc said. "I wanted them each to be able to specialize."

"Can we see the other ones?"

"Sure!" Doc demonstrated each attachment as Marty, Harry, and Ronnie made their copies. Marty wandered over as he finished up. "You have got a _cool_ best friend," Darryl informed him.

Marty laughed. "Never thought I'd hear _that_ from somebody. Showing off for some fellow comic book geeks?"

Doc and the tentacles nodded proudly. "And they're quite the appreciative audience. Even if one of them thinks the Green Goblin could take 'me' in a fight."

"All he has to do is stay out of reach," John argued. "And he can throw those pumpkin bombs pretty far."

"True, but Doc Ock could simply catch them and throw them back. And you have to take into account the reach of the tentacles. Mine can extend up to 13 feet, and I think the real Dr. Octopus's can stretch even farther."

"You want to weigh in?" John asked Marty.

"Like I'm gonna go with anybody but Doc Ock. Besides, my favorite villain was the Vulture. That wing harness was bitchin'." Tommy squeaked in protest. "Not that you guys aren't cool too."

The librarian came over, holding a cordless phone. "My boss said it would be all right if you climbed up the side of the building. He thinks it would be good publicity -- although secretly I think he just wants to see you do it."

"All right then, thank you. I'll tell Harry and Ronnie the good news."

"No trouble. Although I had an idea while I was talking to Mr. Pierce. You're doing all this for a photo shoot, right?" Doc nodded. "Well, why not climb up a more impressive building? One we all know? This one looks rather dull, I'm sad to say."

Doc blinked. "Er -- are you suggesting I climb up the Clock Tower?"

"I'd go there," the librarian winked.

"And you already know you can climb it," Marty said, warming almost immediately to the idea. "After your little late-night outing a few days ago. Sounds cool to me." Darryl, John, and Melanie all nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, I know. I'm just worried about getting in trouble. The last thing I want is to further the image of us as an _evil_ Dr. Octopus." The tentacles chattered in agreement.

"I don't think the police will give you any trouble -- you _did_ save one of their own yesterday."

"I'm more worried about the Hill Valley Historical Society."

The teenagers laughed. "If those two ladies bitch you out after you gave them your life savings in donations, that just proves they have nothing else to do with their time."

Harry and Ronnie came over, carrying a large stack of paper. "Are we good to go?" Harry asked.

"I suppose, although the librarian just suggested a new location for our photo shoot. How do you feel about me climbing up the Clock Tower instead of the library?"

"The Clock Tower is our local landmark," Marty explained. "30 years ago, lightning hit it and froze the clock permanently at 10:04. Practically everyone in town knows about it."

Harry grinned. "Sounds great! And it probably has more visual appeal than the library."

"Mind if we tag along to watch?" John asked eagerly.

"They're my new fan club," Doc said with an embarrassed grin as Harry and Ronnie looked at him. "They saw the arms and came over to talk."

"We won't get in the way or anything," Melanie promised. "We just want to see them in action."

"We've even got our own car," Darryl added. "It's a crappy car, but it's a car."

"If you want to follow us, we're not going to stop you -- as long as you stay out of the way," Ronnie said. "Otherwise, the more the merrier."

"Great!"

Doc was still a little hesitant. "Climbing up the Clock Tower is a bit more serious than climbing up the library. I couldn't ask anyone if it was okay."

"Doc, you've already done it," Marty pointed out.

"Climbing up the Clock Tower in the dead of the night is a little different from climbing up the Clock Tower during the afternoon."

**_We don't want to make trouble for anyone who might see us,_ **Jules agreed, hissing and clicking as Doc translated. **_The risks outweigh the rewards._**

**_It _was_ fun the last time we did it, though, _**Tommy said. **_And nobody seemed to notice any damage we did._**

"Come on, Dr. Brown, it's a great idea," Harry said. "Ronnie will get some great new photos of you." Verne perked up, interested. "And like Marty said, you did it once. Where's the risk?"

"You'll be fine, Doc," Marty nodded.

Doc considered that for a long moment. Then he grinned as his daredevil side took control. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

"All right!" Darryl cheered as he and his friends raced for their car. Harry, Ronnie, Marty, and Doc thanked the librarian again, then Harry and Ronnie got in the van as the tentacles helped Marty back up onto Doc's back. "Comfortable up there?" Doc asked.

"Great, Doc. Let's do it!" They set off, followed by the _Scientific American_ van, Darryl's old Mustang, and a crowd of curious onlookers.

It was a very large mass of people who finally arrived at the Clock Tower. The people already there seemed briefly puzzled by all the fuss, then spotted Doc and understood. Jules put Marty back on the ground. "I must say, it feels very weird to be at the center of so much attention," Doc admitted, looking around.

Marty smirked. "You gotta admit, Doc, you're a bit of a showoff. Plus I bet a lot of these people heard about how you saved that kid and that police officer yesterday. News travels fast around here."

"I think you're right. Oh well, at least they're not throwing things at me." The tentacles whirred in agreement and nuzzled him to try and lighten his mood. Doc smiled and patted them, then turned toward the Clock Tower.

"You can do it, Dr. Brown!" John cheered, while Darryl and Melanie clapped.

"Be careful!" someone else called -- from the sound of it, it was one of the Preservation Society ladies.

"Camera's all set! Go for it!" Ronnie yelled.

Doc looked at the tentacles. _Ready kids?_

_**Ready!**_

_Okay, just like we did last time. And remember, try to keep damage to a minimum._

The tentacles nodded, then grabbed ahold of the bricks and mortar. With slow, sure steps, they began to climb.

The crowd went eerily silent as Doc ascended. The only sounds were the steady thuds created by the tentacles and the frenzied clicking of Ronnie's camera. Doc closed his eyes and simply focused on enjoying his climb up.

Finally, they were at the top. Doc perched over the clock like some strange gargoyle. For a moment, the silence lingered. Then, to Doc's astonishment, the crowd -- the _entire_ crowd -- erupted into loud cheers. Everyone seem thrilled that he and the kids had made it up there. Using the zoom functions in the tentacles, Doc could see Ronnie answering questions while Harry was accosted by a Preservation Society lady. He could also see Marty, John, Darryl, and Melanie all giving him a round of applause.

Doc grinned as the tentacles buzzed. Right then, they all felt truly on top of the world.


	11. Danger From Carlyle

Chapter 11

Wednesday, March 5th, 1986

Hill Valley

6:07 A.M.

_I'm ruined._

That was the only thought going through Stanley Carlyle's head as he stalked along on his morning walk. The sun was rising in front of him, painting the street in gold and pink. The snow, was beginning to melt at last, giving rise to fresh patches of pale green grass. It was all rather pretty, but Carlyle didn't notice, too wrapped up in his dark thoughts. _Damn that Dr. Brown! All he had to do was lay still. Then we would have been famous for curing Dr. Octopus. Instead he made those arms attack us, and now he's famous for _being _Dr. Octopus. I don't buy that 'the arms are sentient' shit. He's controlling them. He just wanted to steal all the glory for himself. That was supposed to be _my_ glory! _I _was the one who was supposed to be famous! But I'll have my revenge. I'll make him pay._

Carlyle's stomach growled, prompting a turn toward the closest convenience store. After grabbing a couple of chocolate bars, Carlyle browsed the magazines, looking to see if there was anything he'd be interested in reading about.

His jaw dropped as he saw Dr. Brown's face on the cover of _Scientific American._ Stunned, he grabbed the magazine and started skimming. It seemed that Dr. Brown had been contacted by a young reporter for the magazine while returning from a failed assignment, and the editors had felt the resulting story was too good to pass up. Carlyle scowled as he realized the article was nothing but praise for Dr. Brown and his new arms. "Piece of garbage," he muttered, flicking through it. "Why can't they see--"

His eyes suddenly focused on one particular illustration in the article. He frowned for a moment, studying it. Then an almost _evil_ smile appeared on his lips. _Well. _This_ is interesting._ He folded the magazine, put it under his arm, then went up to the counter and paid for his purchases. He snickered as he glanced at the magazine. _The perfect revenge. Now I'm glad Mother forced me into taking that computer course in college._

Tuesday, March 11th, 1986

Hill Valley

8:27 A.M.

_**Ugh. I still think this place is too white.**_

_I'm inclined to agree,_ Doc admitted to Verne as he walked into the hospital lobby. Patients and doctors, seeing the tentacles, gave him a wide berth. _Well, we're only here for a checkup. Then we can go back out into the wide, colorful world._

**_I hope this checkup doesn't take too long,_** Jules said, resting on Doc's shoulder. **_I have some mechanical equations I'd like to discuss with you._**

**_And I want to play another round of tug-the-rag with Einstein,_** Tommy complained. **_And we're going to the movies in a little while with Marty and Jennifer._**

_We shouldn't be here more than an hour, tops,_ Doc reassured them as they approached the front desk. "Excuse me, I have an appointment with Dr. Caldwell at 8:30."

"Yes sir," the nurse said, somehow keeping a stone face at the tentacles. "He'll be in room 116."

"Thank you. Can I go right in?"

"Yup, that should be fine."

"Thanks." The tentacles waved at her as Doc went down the hall. **_She was pretty nice,_** Tommy said.

**_Dr. Caldwell is nice too,_** Albert said. **_He argued our case to the other doctors. I'm glad we have a friend like him._**

_Me too,_ Doc agreed, locating room 116. He opened the door --

And started back. Dr. Caldwell wasn't inside. Instead, sitting on the examination table with a smile was Intern Stanley Carlyle. The tentacles moved back and started hissing. **_He, by contrast, is _not_ nice._**

"Come on now, stop that," Carlyle said affably, getting up. "That's no way to treat your doctor."

Doc regarded Carlyle suspiciously. "Where's Dr. Caldwell?"

"He had to take an emergency case -- some poor guy who nearly suffocated inside a closet. I agreed to perform the examination in his steed."

Doc frowned. "I find that rather hard to believe, Carlyle. I was under the impression that you didn't like us."

"Oh? I admit, I was pretty shocked at first by this whole business. But I've come to accept it. The past is the past, and you can't change the past."

Doc couldn't help but smirk a little at that. "I suppose that's true."

The tentacles kept hissing. **_We don't trust him Father. He came after us with a chainsaw. He tried to hurt us._**

Carlyle frowned at the tentacles. "Boy, they really don't like me, do they?"

"They still clearly remember your actions in the operating room," Doc said. "I can't say that I blame them for not liking you."

"Hey, I was just as frightened as they were. I thought they meant to hurt us. Most of the other doctors felt the same way. I was just trying to defend myself." Carlyle edged away from him. "In fact, how do I know they won't attack me _now_?"

"Stand down," Doc ordered. The tentacles resisted for a moment, then lowered. "They defer to me, Carlyle. I won't let any harm come to you."

"Even so, I'd feel a lot more comfortable if they were wearing these." Carlyle got up and went over to a bag he had on the opposite counter. Reaching in, he pulled out -- four small dog collars, with leashes attached.

The tentacles came up again, although this time from curious confusion. "Dog collars?" Doc asked, voicing their thoughts.

"Yup. I'd just tie the ends of the leashes to the legs of the examining bed. "They'd still be free to move around some, they just couldn't get the jump on me. That's all I'm worried about."

Albert moved forward a bit, studying the collars. **_What's that?_** he asked, pointing to a small electronic box attached to one of the collars. Doc repeated the question.

Carlyle grinned. "I'm a bit of an inventor myself. My mother's dog has a tendency to wander, so I built these tracking devices." Carlyle pulled a small remote out of his pocket and pressed the lone button. The devices began to beep and blink. "Now when the dog wanders off, we can easily find her. Perfectly harmless."

Doc frowned, unconvinced. _What do you think, kids?_

**_We don't know,_** Verne admitted. **_We don't like the idea of collars -- it's very degrading, makes us seem like pets. But we also don't want you to suffer from missing your physical._**

**_And requesting a new doctor would take time,_** Albert said. **_We're supposed to go to the movies with Marty and Jennifer right after your appointment. We don't want to make them wait._**

_I know, but I don't want to you put you into a situation where you wouldn't be comfortable either. I could always reschedule._

Jules looked at the collars and leashes again. **_Actually, Father, I think that we could easily break those leashes if we had to. They're merely cloth._**

**_Yeah, that would be simple,_ **Tommy agreed. **_Carlyle doesn't know much about us or our limitations. We could neutralize him quite easily._**

_What about those electronics? I have my suspicions about them._

_**You know we can move very quickly if we need to -- we can propel you at a rate of 50 miles per hour if need be. We could probably negate any threat he might make towards us before he can do anything with his remote.**_

_You're sure?_

_**98.5 percent, Father.**_

**_Whatever gets us out of here the fastest,_ **Albert said with a squeak

**_Yeah, I want to go to the movies and stuff you with candy,_ **Tommy teased.

Doc chuckled. "All right, Carlyle, the tentacles are willing to submit to the collars. Just please, make this quick. I've got an appointment later with friends."

Carlyle smiled, slipping the remote back into his pocket. "Of course. Take off your shirt, hop on the table, and let's get this over with."

Doc did just that, setting his shirt to the side. The tentacles dipped downward, allowing Carlyle to fix their collars. Stanley tied the attached leashes to the legs of the examining table. The tentacles waved around a bit, testing the limits of their new bonds. **_Easily snappable,_** Albert assured Doc. **_If he tries anything, we will be free before he can blink._**

The examination went smoothly -- Carlyle checked blood pressure temperature, hearing, eyesight, all the usual things. He also examined Doc's back at length. "Well, everything seems to be okay with you," he finally said. "The skin around the metal spine is healing nicely, and the harness itself doesn't seem to be affecting any of your body functions. On the whole, I'd give you a clean bill of health."

The tentacles chittered happily. Doc smiled. "That's great, thanks. Now can we please get these collars off them so I can go?"

"Just a moment." Carlyle casually walked away, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "I have to say, I think that your overall health would be improved, if. . . ."

"If?" Doc prompted, starting to get suspicious. The tentacles began to hiss, sensing danger.

"If we cut those things off your back," Carlyle said coldly, turning to face Doc.

"Those 'things' are my children," Doc snapped as the tentacles hissed louder.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Stanley snapped back. "You can't possibly really believe those things are alive. I know you just wanted the glory of being Dr. Octopus."

"The glory!"

"Yes, the glory! Dr. Octopus is one of the best-known Spider-Man villains ever! By becoming him, you assured yourself fame beyond your wildest dreams!"

"_Infamy_, you mean! I love the kids, but we don't want to be Dr. Octopus! We're not criminals!"

"Hah," Carlyle said, his voice like ice. "One of them tried to kill me."

**_I might try again!_** Albert snarled, snapping his pincers threateningly.

"Albert merely gave you a warning, you chainsaw menace," Doc growled. "If he had really wanted to hurt you, he would have done so." _Ready to snap the leashes on my word?_

**_Ready,_** the tentacles confirmed, tensing themselves.

"Stop referring to them like they're people! They're not alive! They're four metal tubes attached to your back! You attacked us because you wanted to be famous!" Stanley glowered at him. "Well, you're not the only one who wants to be famous!" He yanked out the remote and pressed the button.

The arms abruptly went limp, falling against the examination bed with a set of dull thuds. Doc looked at them in confusion. _Kids? What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to set -- up --_

_Kids?_

Doc realized something. He was alone in his mind. The voices of the tentacles had utterly disappeared. It was -- silent. Suffocatingly silent. _Kids? KIDS!_ _Please, answer me! One of you say something, anything. . . ._

"You really should be more careful about what blueprints you hand out," Carlyle smirked.

Doc glared at him, stroking one of the tentacles. "What did you do to them?" he demanded.

"Nothing much. Just inhibited them, like you did before. The real fun comes later." He reached for something else in his pocket. Doc tried to get up, only to find that the tentacles were practically pinning him to the bed with their weight. "Don't worry, though. I'm not cruel enough to cripple you. I'll just cut the arms off and leave the harness to help keep your spine stabilized."

"You do anything to my kids and I'll--"

Carlyle suddenly grabbed Doc's arm and pulled his other hand out to reveal a syringe. Doc yelped as the needle entered his flesh. "You'll nothing," he finished. "I got this straight from the supplies room. Fastest-acting sedative they had. You'll be dead to the world within minutes." Carlyle snickered cruelly. "You know, for an acknowledged genius, you were pretty easy to trick."

Doc didn't reply. Carlyle was right -- this _was _a powerful sedative. He was feeling woozy already. He desperately tried to hold onto consciousness. "You won't get away with this," he hissed, acutely aware of how pathetic it sounded.

"That's what people say to movie villains," Carlyle said dismissively. "This isn't the movies."

_No, this is the comic books,_ Doc thought, his grip on reality becoming weaker. _Damn it, I should have listened to the tentacles! My poor kids. . . . Jules! Verne! Albert! Tommy!_

_**Father?**_

Doc started. Had he just heard -- _Jules?_

_**Father, where are you? You sound so far away. Where are my brothers?**_

_Carlyle -- Carlyle tricked us. He built -- inhibitor collars -- _Doc thought laboredly, his eyelids beginning to droop. _He's -- going to -- to cut you off --_

_**No! Don't let him do it, Father! Help us!**_

_I -- I can't. He drugged -- me. . . ._ Doc slumped backward, his eyes closing. _Try and -- and break free, Jules. . .get. . .help. . . ._

Doc fell against the wall, sound asleep. Carlyle chuckled and arranged him so that he was lying face down, the arms spread to the sides. "Well then, let me just fetch my tools and we'll go to work," he said cheerfully. "Be right back, Dr. Octopus." He left, humming to himself.

For a moment, all was silent and still inside of the room. Then, slowly and jerkily, Jules began to move. Carlyle hadn't realized it, but he had used a failing battery to power the on-off functions in his final inhibitor collar. As a result, it was much weaker than the other three. And when the battery died completely, there was a good chance that it would be useless.

Jules, however, couldn't afford to wait that long. He knew that, in just a few minutes, Carlyle would be back to cut him and his brothers off. He nudged Verne, but got no response. He chittered fearfully, hovering over Doc's head. **_Father, please help me. Don't leave me alone._**

Doc didn't reply either. When Jules looked, he saw that Doc was unconscious. Jules poked him. **_Wake up, Father, wake up._**

There was no response. And from the limited, faint biological report he was receiving, there was something wrong with Doc. Something very wrong. Jules looked around. **_Got to do what Father told me. Got to get help._**

One thing was for sure -- he'd never be able to get help with this thing on. Taking advantage of his jerky movements, Jules slammed himself into the wall. Plaster fell, drywall cracked -- but the chip on the collar broke, leaving Jules free. He snapped the leash holding him down and extended into the hall.

Tuesday, March 11th

9:09 A.M.

Marty entered the hospital lobby, humming to himself. It was a beautiful day out, and he was going to spend it with his two favorite people. Jennifer was waiting patiently in the truck, so all he had to do was pick up Doc. He scanned the lobby, looking for his friend.

There was no sign of him. Marty frowned, a bit puzzled, then went up to the nurse at the front desk. "Excuse me, but has Dr. Emmett Brown come through here? I'm Marty McFly, I'm his pick-up."

"He came in about a half-hour ago," the nurse said, nodding as she recognized Marty. "He hasn't come back yet, though."

"Okay, thank you." _Huh. I guess his exam is taking longer than we thought. Maybe the tentacles got up to something. Oh well, Jennifer won't mind circling --_

"Hey! Help! Get me out of here!"

Marty started at the suddenly yell, as did everyone else in the lobby. Looking for its source, Marty realized it was coming from a supply closet just inside the main hall. He and the front desk nurse jogged over. "Help! I'm locked in here!"

"We're here, stay calm," the nurse told the captive. She pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket and, after trying a few, got the door unlocked. A brown-haired man in a doctor's coat stumbled out, coughing and dragging a broom with him. "Dr. Caldwell!"

"Thanks," Caldwell coughed. "Somebody jumped me from behind, knocked me out and stuffed me in there. I only came to about a minute ago."

"Who would _do _such a thing?" the nurse asked, sounding stunned.

Marty had a different thought. "Doc came in for an appointment with you! What happened to him?"

"He probably got one of the interns," Caldwell said, getting his breath back. "I'm sure he's fine, my office is right up the hall--"

SCREEEK!

Heads turned sharply as a tentacle appeared near them. Marty blinked as he saw it was attached to a strange-looking dog collar and a broken leash. "What the hell?" he said, touching them cautiously. "What happened to you? Hell, which one _are_ you?"

The tentacle chittered and squeaked, obviously in distress. Marty's stomach twisted. "Did -- did something happen to Doc?"

The tentacle nodded -- then seemed to get an idea. It slithered around to Marty's back. "Hey, where are you go--"

There was a sudden sharp pain at the base of his skull, like someone had jabbed a couple of thin needles into the nape of his neck. "OW! Hey, that hurt!"

_**I'm sorry, brother.**_

Marty's eyes went wide. Where had that voice come from? It seemed to be coming from -- from inside his own head. . .

_**I'm Jules. Father fitted me with wires so I could tap into power systems if need be, remember? I thought that a human nervous system might work along the same principles.**_

"Uh, Marty? That claw is cradling your head rather oddly," Caldwell said, looking concerned.

"He's talking to me," Marty whispered. "He somehow plugged into my brain. . . . Wait a minute, shouldn't there be four of you?"

_**Something's happened to my brothers and Father. We went to have our physical, and Intern Carlyle was waiting for us in the examining room. He seemed sorry for what he did, so we thought -- we thought we could trust him. . . .**_

Marty realized that Jules was crying. He reached back and patted the tentacle, trying to soothe it. **_He tricked us, Marty. These collars have something like Father's inhibitor chip attached to them. Mine didn't work correctly for some reason, so I was able to stay in minimal contact with Father. He told me Carlyle drugged him. Then he went to sleep, and I can't wake him up. Please help me Marty. . . ._**

Marty quickly relayed the information to Caldwell. "Shit! I never trusted Stanley Carlyle. Most likely he wants to cut the arms off." Marty nodded as Jules confirmed this. "We'll have to act quickly to have a chance at saving them. Lead on, Jules."

Jules withdrew from Marty's mind and rocketed down the hall. The humans followed closely, Marty briefly touching the back of his head to make sure that he wasn't bleeding too much. They found Doc face down on the examining table in Dr. Caldwell's office, the other three actuators spread out around him and tied to the legs by their leashes. Marty frowned as he looked at the unconscious Doc. His breathing sounded a bit odd. . . .

"How could Carlyle even build things like these?" the nurse asked, puzzled.

"Carlyle obviously reads _Scientific American_," Caldwell said, studying the chips. "Dr. Brown's blueprints for _his _inhibitor chip, the one that was destroyed in the accident, were featured."

"Yeah, Doc and the tentacles couldn't understand why," Marty said as Jules made some rather rude-sounding noises. He reached for Verne's collar. "They should be okay once we take these off, right?"

"I'm not sure, Marty. I don't know exactly how Carlyle's version of the chip works, and I don't want to damage the tentacles. We have to figure out how to deactivate the collars first."

Jules showed Dr. Caldwell his own chip, then made a smashing motion against the wall and pointed at the dent he had left. "I'd leave that for a last resort," Caldwell said with a slight grin. "We don't want to wreck the hospital as well."

A contented humming caught everyone's attention. The group turned toward the door as Stanley Carlyle wheeled in a cart covered in power tools. He froze as he spotted the quartet. "Dr. Caldwell!" he gasped. "Where did you come from?"

"You know damn well where I came from," Caldwell growled, advancing on the intern. "What did you do to those tentacles?"

Carlyle, knowing the jig was up, dropped the fake surprise. "What does it look like? What I want to know is how that one woke up!"

"Apparently there was a flaw in the design. Carlyle, you can't go cutting off those tentacles! You'd seriously damage Dr. Brown's nervous system!"

"I'm only cutting off the tentacles, not the harness!"

"Even so! He's gotten used to having them be a part of him! You could drive him crazy by removing them!"

"He already _is_ crazy! He thinks the arms are alive! How much crazier do you _want_!"

As the doctors argued, Marty noticed a small remote sticking out of Carlyle's pocket. He immediately went into action, snatching the remote before Carlyle had a chance to react. "Hey! Give that back, you little--"

Marty pressed the button. The effects were astounding and immediate. The three other tentacles snapped up, screeching and making other angry noises. Jules squealed and attempted to "hug" them all.

Carlyle lunged for Marty and the remote. Marty jumped nimbly out of the way, leaving Carlyle to get a face full of tiled floor. Caldwell promptly pinned him, holding his arms behind his back. "Damn it, let me go! I was only trying to help!"

"Like hell," Caldwell countered as the tentacles hissed angry at Carlyle. "You just wanted the fame of being the one to operate on 'Dr. Octopus.' You don't care at all about Dr. Brown."

"He threatened to kill me!"

"You threatened to kill them!"

Marty looked back at Doc as he pocketed the remote. "Hey guys, I hate to interrupt, but Doc's not sounding so good."

"I noticed that too," the nurse said, approaching the examination bed with a frown. Verne, Albert, and Tommy all hissed at her. "Stand down, guys, she's with us," Marty said soothingly as Jules chittered in agreement. "Mind flipping Doc over so we can see what's up?"

The tentacles did so, snapping the leashes. Doc looked a little paler than normal, and his breathing sounded very labored. The nurse examined Doc's throat as Marty pulled the collars off the tentacles. "No wonder he's having trouble breathing! His throat is swelling up terribly!"

Dr. Caldwell turned rather pale himself. "Carlyle, what did you use to sedate Dr. Brown."

"Sodium phenotate. It was the quickest-acting one they had. Why?"

"You moron!" Dr. Caldwell yelled. "You might as well have given him poison! _He's allergic to that!_"

The tentacles immediately switched from anger to fright. They dipped low around Doc, poking him with their pincers and screeching at him. Doc remained stubbornly unconscious, though he was almost gasping for breath by this point. "Do something!" Marty yelled at them. "Aren't you four hooked into his nervous system? Can't you stop this!"

The tentacles looked at each other. Then Jules went over and joined up with Marty again. **_We don't _know_ what to do, Marty! All we know is that he's slowly suffocating!_**

**_Tell us what to do, Marty,_** Verne pleaded.

"Right, what do you give to a guy who's having an allergic reaction?" Marty asked desperately.

"Adrenaline," the nurse said. "I'll go get some right now." She raced out of the room.

"Is anything else going to happen to him? Anything we should know about?" Marty asked as the tentacles squeaked fearfully.

"The reaction is basically limited to his airway closing up," Dr. Caldwell said. "Of course, that is enough to kill him if he isn't treated promptly."

"Shit. . . . Do you think you guys could, I dunno, make him make adrenaline for himself?" Marty asked the tentacles.

There was a hesitation. **_Father asked us not to interfere with his brain chemistry,_ **Albert admitted. **_He told us it makes him nervous._**

**_But he's _dying_! We have to!_ **Tommy cried.

"This is an emergency," Marty agreed. "Doc would forgive you for this."

**_You're right._** The tentacles went to work. Marty could almost _feel_ them directing the impulses in Doc's brain. After a minute, Doc began to breathe a little easier. Marty relaxed. "Thanks a bunch, guys. That should hold him over until the nurse gets back, right?" The tentacles nodded.

Carlyle squirmed under Caldwell. "You're a bunch of freaks, all of you! I can't believe you'd actually _defend_ those things!"

Marty glared at him, the tentacles hissing again. "These _things_ helped save both my life and Doc's. I can't say you've done the same, asshole." Carlyle was about to respond when Albert's blade popped out threateningly. Carlyle shut up and looked at the floor.

The nurse returned, carefully tapping the air bubbles out of a syringe. The three unoccupied tentacles hovered anxiously around her, waiting impatiently for the operation to be finished. "Don't crowd me," she scolded them. "I'm trying to make sure that nothing else happens to him." The tentacles moved back, chattering apologetically. The nurse gave them a smile, then injected the adrenaline straight into Doc's carotid artery.

There was a tense minute as everyone waited. Then the swelling in Doc's throat began to go down more. Marty breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you think he's gonna be okay?"

**_Our biometric readings seem to indicate so,_ **Jules said happily. **_Should we try again to waken Father?_**

"Yeah, go ahead."

Tuesday, March 11th

9:14 A.M.

Doc let out a low groan. He felt like he'd been asleep for ages. Every part of his body seemed like it weighed a ton more than it was supposed to. _What the hell did Carlyle inject me with?_

"It looks like he's starting to come to," a voice said from far away. Doc tried to open his eyes, to reach out, but his body wasn't quite ready to respond. It felt like he was stranded in some sort of dark, cold sea, unable to reach shore. He moaned again and tried to speak. _Help me. . . ._

**_Don't worry, Father, we're here._ **Doc felt four -- no, not four, _five_ -- presences in his mind, helping him pull him back to wakefulness. **_We will help you._**

_Thanks, kids._

Doc's eyes suddenly popped open. Bright light assaulted his eyes, but he barely noticed, too caught up in his own emotions. "Kids?" he repeated aloud, stunned. Could it be -- were they --

_**We're here, Father. We're back.**_

Doc could have jumped for joy. "Kids!" He sat up as the life came back into his body and clumsily tried to embrace the tentacles. "Oh, kids, I was so worried about you. . . ."

"Easy now, Dr. Brown," came the voice of Dr. Caldwell. "We've just saved you from a near-fatal allergic reaction."

"What? What happened?" Doc asked, feeling around for his sunglasses. One of the tentacles placed them in his hand.

"Genius over there decided to inject you with something called sodium phenotate," Marty said as Doc slipped them on. "And apparently you're allergic enough to that to stop breathing."

A chill ran down Doc's spine. "That's right -- they gave me that to take my tonsils out, and my throat almost completely swelled up." He rubbed his neck. "No wonder it feels rather sore. Thank you all for your quick action."

**_They saved us all, Father,_** Jules said happily, as the others rubbed up against him affectionately. **_I was able to find Dr. Caldwell, Marty, and a nurse and communicate with them. They made Carlyle leave us alone -- Dr. Caldwell has him pinned to the floor right now -- and the nurse and Marty helped your allergic reaction._**

Doc smiled -- then frowned as he realized he could still feel that mysterious fifth presence. So far, it had been silent, but it was still there. Puzzled, Doc reached out to it, trying to figure out who or what it was. To his surprise, the presence seemed to be made up of -- music. Doc could hear strange, half-finished tunes swirling around in this new fifth mind. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of it. He had never gotten that sort of sensation from any of the tentacles. _Hello?_ he called mentally. _Who are you?_

He noticed Marty step back, a surprised look on his face -- and then he noticed that Jules's claw was wrapped gently around Marty's head. A few moments later, his suspicions were confirmed. _Doc? Is that you?_

_Hello Marty. I wasn't aware your brain was this noisy._

Marty smirked. _Yours is pretty loud too -- I _knewI_ wasn't thinking about quantum equations. I didn't think I'd be able to hear you, though, just the tentacles._

_I didn't either. In fact, I didn't know Jules could hook into a human nervous system with his attachments. _Doc frowned._ He isn't hurting you, is he?_

_No, Doc, I'm fine._ Marty shook his head. _Jesus, this is weird -- although I guess it proves you're okay if you've got science stuff cooking in your head._

"Are you two all right?" the nurse asked. "You both look rather odd."

"We're fine," Doc assured her. "Jules hooking into Marty's nervous system apparently has the side effect of me being able to hear his thoughts, and vice-versa."

Dr. Caldwell frowned at them. "You know, Marty, I think we'd better do a CAT scan on you after we've cleaned up here, just in case. That sounds like a pretty serious invasion."

"Probably for the best," Doc admitted. "We want to be certain Jules didn't hurt you, after all."

Jennifer appeared in the doorway, followed by a couple more doctors and nurses. "What's going on?" she asked, staring at the scene in front of her. "I came in to see what was the hold up, and someone told me that they saw you rescue Dr. Caldwell from a storage closet, then follow one of the tentacles back to his office."

"Are you all right, Dr. Caldwell?" one of the other doctors asked.

"What on earth are you doing to Intern Carlyle?"

"I'm fine," Dr. Caldwell said. "But I think we'd all better have a chat with Intern Carlyle here about his future as a doctor."

"I was doing the right thing," Carlyle grumbled.

"Like hell you were."

"It's okay, Jennifer," Marty said, Jules withdrawing from his brain as he stepped forward. "That jerk on the floor decided to cause more trouble for Doc and nearly ended up killing him."

"Are you okay, Doc?" Jennifer asked nervously.

Doc smiled and gathered the tentacles into his arms. "I am now," he said, beckoning them into his embrace.


	12. The Final Wrap Up

Epilogue

Tuesday, March 25th, 1986

Hill Valley

2:38 P.M.

"Hey, Doc?"

Jules answered the door for the scientist. Marty and Jennifer both greeted the tentacle with an affectionate pat. "Hey Jules. Doc busy with an experiment?"

"Late lunch, actually," Doc called from his small kitchen area as they stepped inside. "Either of you care for a hot dog?"

"Yeah, I could go for one. Ketchup and relish on it."

"Me too, just mustard," Jennifer nodded. Jules went to fetch the necessary ingredients. The teens made themselves comfortable at Doc's table. "Did you see the morning paper? Stanley Carlyle's been barred from practicing medicine. Turns out he's messed up a couple of surgeries trying to play the big man. He might get charged with attempted manslaughter."

"We've heard," Doc nodded. "We're glad he'll never practice medicine again. The man was a menace." The tentacles hissed angrily in agreement.

"We won't argue with you there, Doc." Marty opened his backpack. "Are the tentacles doing all right?"

"They are, for the most part. They understand that Carlyle was only one bad apple in the bunch. They're still a little reluctant to enter standby mode, but that's only to be expected."

"I guess so. How about you?"

"I'm all right. What about you? Did you get that CAT scan done?"

"Yeah, we did. Jules didn't do anything bad to my brain when he linked up with me. And you can barely see the scar he left. I'm fine." Jules chittered, relieved. More seriously, Marty added, "I overheard some doctors saying it might be dangerous for you to keep wearing the arms -- like they would pull your spine out of alignment eventually. They said they'd kind of like to take them off too."

"Did they now? Well -- I'd like to see them try." The tentacles snapped their pincers and hissed again. "Because any doctor who tries to come between me and the kids again is going to get a nasty surprise."

Marty smirked. "I figured that. I don't think anybody would actually do it -- not after what happened to Carlyle."

"Smart." Doc came over, carrying the hot dogs and a plate of french fries. "So, how was school today?"

"Pretty good -- some kids were tailing me again because of the news on Carlyle, but I'm used to that by this point." Marty scowled as he got out his homework. "Strickland was an asshole, though. He was on my ass all day." He took a bite out of his hot dog and chewed thoughtfully. "Would you mind coming to school one day and dangling him off the top of the building?"

Doc, Jennifer, and the tentacles all laughed. "I think there are slightly more subtle and better ways of getting revenge, Marty."

"Ah, come on, Doc! Who needs subtle when you've got four metal tentacles welded to you?" The tentacles chittered. "You don't actually have to drop him, just give him a scare."

"Well. . . . No, dangling him off the building is out of the question. But perhaps I could make an appearance at the school. Set the record straight about us and all that."

"Now we're talking." Marty swallowed more of his hotdog. "We've also got some killer chemistry homework. I swear, the teacher had it in for us today."

"Let's finish our snack, and then I'll take a look," Doc nodded. "And then afterwards _you _ can help _me_ with some plans to expand the DeLorean. I certainly don't want to give up time traveling just because of the kids."

"No problem, Doc. We'd be happy to help." Jennifer nodded, still chewing.

"Thanks, Marty. We really appreciate it, you know." Doc and the tentacles patted him on the shoulder. "We appreciate all you've done for us. Thank you."

Marty smiled. "You're welcome Doc. That's what friends are for. Speaking of which, mind getting me a soda?"

The End


End file.
